


Deception  {Dreamnotfound}

by Owl1425



Series: The Lost Souls series {Dreamnotfound} [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 38,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl1425/pseuds/Owl1425
Summary: 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵.Book Two of The Lost Souls Series--------------------------THIS IS BOOK TWO - READ PERCEPTION BEFORE CONTINUING!!To earn happiness for yourself is to take another's away. George has learnt the cruel way of this world, but never how he wished to. Now he's stuck with the consequences of a freak accident, more blood on his hands that he can't wash away, and more problems that he can't get rid of.A grieving soulmate, guilt-ridden and lost. A leader, forced into action to fulfil a promise. A best friend, forced to pick between rival sides. A dangerous rival, seeking a new victim. And a seemingly innocent boy, with an innocent smile to hide the darkness behind it.Secrets to hide a dark past, a great deception to keep the greatest unknown.--------------------------Deception:An act or statement which misleads, hides the truth, or promotes a belief, concept, or idea that is not true.- NO SMUT (never will be in my books)- Trigger warnings (you can skip them): death, scenes of violence/gore, panic attacks, mental illness
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: The Lost Souls series {Dreamnotfound} [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100999
Comments: 119
Kudos: 169





	1. Never Strong Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to book 2, Deception.
> 
> As I’m posting this, Deception isn’t actually complete.  
> Chapters will therefore instead by every three days until it catches up to where I am posting on wattpad, then will update at the same time as it does on wattpad, which is currently about once a week.
> 
> (This is a reminder that if you don’t want to wait 3 days for each chapter, the most up-to-date version of this book is on my wattpad (Owl1425).)
> 
> This starting POV is also not George.

-??? POV-

"So, how does it feel to break your promise?"

I turned to Tommy who's sat on my desk, perched on the edge as he always is. He is barely past the age of sixteen, swinging his legs in a childish manner. Aside from being childish, there was a cold vibrant glare in his eyes. A blue color, almost like the sky.

His eyes reminded me of someone. 

Someone that meant the world to me, my own soulmate. 

Beside him, there is another boy. Older, with dark brown hair hiding his left eye. His name is Wilbur, and we have been friends before we became targets for other hunters. 

Subconsciously, my hand drifts to my eye tracing the scar covering it from the top of my forehead and down to my chin. I wasn't wearing my mask, so the deformed part of my face was exposed. It's a constant reminder of my failure and one of many from that day. 

Just looking at my friends causes guilt to flow through my veins. I should have stayed with them, I should have known better, I feel the ambush could have been avoided, but these are all "I Feels" and in all honesty, who knows what would have happened?

Leaving them alone for all this time. The world changes, in more ways than one. So do the people, for better or worse. As a society, we have to deal with how they come out, whether we like it or not. 

Looking into the eyes of the boys before me, it's clear which way I turned. 

"Nothing to say? Is there no excuse for your actions?" The third boy, Phil; blonde like Tommy, rests his head in his hands dully. Looking at me with the same cold eyes. "Of course not. You didn't have an excuse then, you don't have one now."

"Quiet," I yell, closing my eyes as if it'll make them disappear. "Please" I mutter quickly afterward. It's strange hearing my voice quiver in terror, I shouldn't be showing any of these emotions. But I've caused all of them too much damage, and it's something I will never forgive myself for. 

"Silence does you no favors" Wilbur replies. 

"Unfortunately my voice did not help us back then..." Tommy adds.

"Please! Don't remind me, I'm already in anguish and dont need any reminders."

"Never truly here, much like her" Will reminds. "You ever plan to talk to her again, or will you lose her too?" My eyes drift to my desk, to the drawer in which it lies. My soulmate band, the one I removed. 

"I'm undeserving of a soulmate," I remind my companions. "Too weak to protect them."

"That doesn't make them undeserving of one. They deserve a chance."

"No!" Despite my own words, I find myself opening the drawer. Picking up that band, running my fingers over the black material. A reminder that I've failed yet another person, another life lost to my hands. Slipped through my fingers, just as they did. 

"Wasn't strong enough then, and still aren't today." Tommy spits, narrowing those icy blue eyes at me. It burns into my soul, forcing me to look away."Will you ever learn?"

They're right, I don't learn. Leaving a fearsome reputation as one of the strongest, concealing the weakness underneath. People knew, they knew what happened and thought I'd follow. I did too, thought this event would be different.

Thought I could save this one, difficult lesson to learn.

"You're weak, and you know it!" they tell me as if their existence is insufficient proof. Distorted, how they look so real but feel so fake. "Dream would have succeeded, he is strong."

"Dream's dead-"

"He is alive!" They shouted, their hollow voices synchronized."Which is more than your soulmate can say! He has returned, and you know what that means."

"He had his chance, he'll be dead again soon-"

"You're too weak to kill him. You've always been weak." Tommy suddenly crouches down, mimicking a terrified person, a coward. 'I can't do this, I'm not sure I can attack anyone. You know that.' "Bullshit! You were when this hellhole started, and you are now!"

"You aren't even real!" I yell, looking between the three boys before me. "Since then I've changed-"

"How? In what way have you changed?" Wilbur yells. "People are still dying in your hands, and you want to protect them all. But here you are, the same coward from before, doing absolutely nothing to change! We are real! you can't erase us! That's out of your control. You promised we'd get through this together-"

"I can't change that! Neither can you, there's nothing that can be done. You can't be saved-"

"We never could be" they reply, as one. "You weren't strong enough, you couldn't save us. You're still the same coward, nothing has changed-"

Screaming in frustration, I slashed my sword forward. The sharp edge targets the youngest's stomach, watching the blade plunge into him. 

"You're insane." Tommy looks to the sword, unfazed. Past the point of caring about this world.

Phil grins. "You've lost your touch. You're not the strongest, Dream is-"

"Dream has nothing on me!" I screamed while I slashed his head, and the sword dragged from his neck. Useless. "I am stronger now!"

I stared at the only surviving soul and sliced through his shoulder and into his heart, slashing again and again, waiting for blood to spill. That same feeling rushing through my veins, I cherish that. Killing people is easy, a lot easier than I could ever imagine. 

This is all normal. This is what I live for, what I desire!

"Just die!" I close my eyes, sighing in frustration as nothing works. "Leave me alone! I'm better now, stronger. Stronger than anyone else! Why can't you see that?"

"Because you're wrong, and you know it." Their hollow eyes return to me, cold and lifeless. As Wilbur pretends to gasp for his last breath he says "You always were. Even on that day when you didn't listen you were wrong. Now you do the same, pushing away the ones who try to help you. You ignored her, and you're ignoring us too."

"You will never be strong enough."

Blinded by rage, I screamed while pulling out a second blade and slashing them all again. It felt satisfying, I've been stalled by my weak side; the side of compassion, kindness, and uncertainty. But it all ends now!

At last, they fade, but only a while. I know they'll be back, they always manage a way to come back. Just never as I wanted them to be. They're never really here, not like they used to be. 

I'll show them. I'll show everyone that I am no coward! Stupid! Why can't my friends be like how they were before! Before that day...

~Flashback~

The sun begins to set as I make my way back to the little apartment, our temporary home. My target profile remains in my pocket, collected only a few minutes ago. Just grabbing that piece of paper I want to hide somewhere, and cry. My target isn't here, and I don't want to find him. The boy I have to hunt and kill is only a little older than me, and most likely more experienced in fighting, something I choose not to do. 

But I can't take his life, I just can't. What about his friends or family? What will happen if he dies? What happens to me if I don't kill him? Thousands of questions spiral in my head. Debating someone's life over my own safety is numbing. A life for a life. It's simple. I have to do it!

So why does it feel so wrong?

The knowledge that someone is hunting me down is horrifying, the only way to secure my safety is to kill my target. It's messed up, but it's how the world works. Staying on the outskirts seemed like the smartest idea, away from the back alleys. Those areas are full of dark shadows, a great place for us to be attacked at any given time.

One of my friends could be my hunter, including Wilbur. Realistically the odds are low, but betrayal is still an option. Hanging over us, and making our conversations tense. It didn't feel like that when Will and I were younger. The time being young was a benefit, you didn't have to worry about all this violence. 

Maybe Tommy is the lucky one. He's safe for another two years, no hunters out for him unlike the rest of us. He can't be worried, he can still smile and crack jokes. Hell, that boy can be annoying but he's good company in these times. Seeing the way he can still smile makes me happier, gives me some hope for this broken world. 

Hope, until it's ripped away by a distant scream. 

Tommy's scream.

Instantly I pick up my pace, following the sound back to our apartment. Telling my legs to go faster as I sprint through the dark alleyways without a second thought. My mind was focused on the possibility of an ambush. 

Despite my time spent in the city, my stamina won't hold up. Lungs burning as I reach another crossroad, running through deserted streets until I finally turn onto the correct one.

The one where our apartment lies, peace disrupted suddenly. Desperately I climb the ladder, at last reaching the correct floor. The creaking must've alerted everyone of my arrival, as I suddenly see two cloaked figures sprint out of the front door. They're dressed in all black, hiding their features. Adorned with weapons, a long blade across their backs.

Blades that were coated with blood. 

But who's?

I reach for my weapon, a sword I found not long ago. When the two don't back away I swing the blade forward, aiming for the first figures' chest. However I misjudged the distance of my attack. But they don't seem willing to fight, quickly blocking my sword and slashing downwards, before sprinting for the ladder behind me.

A wave of nausea hits me. Their blade connects with my forehead, the dagger burying itself into the delicate skin around my eye, the blade tearing through in a vertical motion. The pain was unbearable and I screamed, bringing my hand directly to my face. 

At that moment, I felt a powerful wave of anger, masking my previous fears. The surroundings colored in a red haze, and I didn't hesitate to charge forward for another attack. My sword met another with a clang, and it wasn't long before the pressure lifted. 

Blood pours into my left eye, blurring my vision as I look around for the attackers. They disappeared, nowhere to be seen. Must've escaped while they had the chance. Forcing myself to stand, I push the door behind me, desperate to save my friends. 

I can't believe it, I made a dumb decision. I left them here when they could have gone with me. The blood on those figures' swords were enough to tell me that something brutal happened. If there were more, I would deal with them. I pray that blood was mostly their own, instead of my friends. 

"I'm here!" I yell, looking around the room. Previous white walls are now stained with crimson color, fresh and dripping. Covering every surface, thicker on the edges of furniture as if someone was hit against them. Did they fight back and win? Slowly I drag my eyes down, to the denser pools of blood staining the carpet.

Pools of blood in which two bodies lay. 

One in that unmistakable mustard sweater, barely recognizable through the bloodstain just below his stomach. The other with shoulder-length hair, hat laying aside, exposing the deep cut through his forehead. 

Both of them were lifeless.

"Phil..." I breathe, stepping towards his corpse. Carefully I take his hand, the one that rested on my shoulder in comfort barely an hour ago. Cold, blood split across the floor from a heart no longer beating.

"Will..." I choke out, turning to the limp figure laying beside the door. I press my bloody fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. I know I won't find one, but blindly hope for it anyway. 

I squeeze my eyes shut as if it'll reverse the horror scene before me. Disappear like a bad nightmare and remove the bodies lying lifelessly before me. Then I would wake up, and they would still be alive.   
Yet I knew that I was too late.

Sobbing that isn't my own echoes from upstairs, partially suffocated. Like an animal that wailed for help. Was one of them still alive and unharmed? I force myself to turn away and run in the direction of the voice. Blood is splattered up the stairs, pools growing in size as I reach the top. A bedroom door lays open, with a familiar figure sitting in the center of the room.

Tommy leans against the wall, hands clasped over his mouth to suffocate his pained screams. Every gasp of air he took, grew shallower by the second. 

"Tommy!" I gasp, running to his side and pulling him into my arms. He doesn't hug back, leaning into me with what little energy remains in him. I push his blonde locks out of his eyes, face dulling but gaze urgent. 

"Please say they're ok-" he gasps through sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. He buries his face in my chest, soaking my shirt with tears. "Make it go away! Tell me they're ok!"

"Tommy I'm sorry-" 

He suddenly pulls away, eyes widening. "They're-" he gasps, a pleading look in his icy blue orbs that makes my heart shatter. Hopeless, as I slowly nod my head and watch him break down before me.

"I'm here and I'll protect you. I swear we're going to be fine." I hold the sobbing teenager tightly in my arms, checking to make sure he's ok. There's a gash across his cheek, but something was wrong with his breathing. Maybe it's him panicking? Yeah, maybe it is. 

"Tommy we're going to be fine, everything will be okay." 

"They're dead!" He screeched, pulling his hair with his bleeding hands. "Wilbur and Phil are dead! Their hunters killed them! They're going to kill you too!"

"I'm not letting that happen." I force myself to choke back my tears, silently swearing that I'll keep him safe. "I'm not letting this happen again. I'll never leave your side, Tommy, we're going to be ok."

Tommy collapses against me, pale from exhaustion. "Why is this normal?" he whispers hoarsely. "Why is it normal to kill people? Why is this ok when it feels worse than it actually seems? Why can't things be normal again?"

I didn't have the answer but I wish I did. Wish I could've been here, got here a little bit faster to save them. I should have asked them to come with me, yet I was scared that we would have to fight. I didn't want to fight, I hated fighting. But I can't make the same mistake again, I have to protect him. Protect him with everything I've got.

"I don't know, Tommy." I respond, bringing him closer to my chest. 

The remainder of the night was silent. 

Along with Phil and Wilbur, Tommy had eventually gone too. 

He died slowly in my arms. We cried with each other until his last breath. I had woken up to him lifeless, hugging me close to his chest that will never rise again. 

Now, I was all alone. All my best friends were dead and it was all my fault. I couldn't protect them, I couldn't save them. But I was the last one standing. I had survived the aftermath of this unexpected ambush, despite being the coward I am. 

Yet I'm still here, feeling stronger than I ever felt before.


	2. I Don't Need You

-Zak's POV- 

Nothing can distract me from that band. It feels like a casted spell, forcing me to stare into it's black, lifeless color. The item I once cherished the most, looked upon with such fondness as I admired its' purple glow. Since the very first day it appeared, I treated it as a prized treasure and the person it linked me to. 

The person I got killed.

The same one I swore to protect. Who was made a fool for being my soulmate; a medic and an elite assassin. Yet he never felt ashamed of it. Always by my side, despite how annoying I was. He was there as a reminder that there is some good left in this world. Since his death, I wonder where the good is? 

Gone, that's where. 

Soulmates are what makes this world worth living in. Knowing that someone is meant for you, that there's someone out there who will love you unconditionally. Perfect, supposedly a 'perfect' person. I never believed in a system like that. Knowing that I was meant to be with someone. That someone was perfect. For me at least. 

That was, until I met him. 

Until then, I'd thought of it as ridiculous. There wasn't a possibility someone could be perfect, it just wasn't possible. Then, he appeared, I knew he was different even before we touched. 

People make fun of you, wondering about the possibility of not having a soulmate. Made fun of me when I didn't have a soulmate and still do.

I had a soulmate, until a few days ago.

Darryl was worth it. He was worth everything. The endless teasing, the names. Worth every damn visit to those awful people, every new scar I had to hide. The people I've killed, blood I spilled to keep that reputation. Making people fear me so no one dared to attack him. Not as long as I have breath in my body.

It never bothered me that I had to kill. After the first time, you get used to it. Learn to block out the screams and force yourself not to look at their face as the life drains from their body. Make yourself ignore it all, the soulmate who's band you've turned black.

Never thought I'd be the reason for my own band turning black.

The only thoughts that swirl in my head are unhelpful and blaming, yet it's labeling me correctly. It's all true, each and every one of them. Even when I sit here with my hands over my ears, eyes scrunched tightly as if it'll erase everything. Knees drawn into myself, my useless attempt of comfort. It was Darryl that would comfort me, but now he isn't here to do that. 

I killed him. Indirectly, but I did. I told him to stay at the bottom of the building and not to follow me. The person who was supposed to be protecting him, left him helpless against those steel beams. If I hadn't have said those words, maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe he'd still be here. 

"Worthless piece of shit. Some elite assassin I am..." 

Hugging my knees tighter to my chest, I force myself to choke back tears. Pulling up my hoodie in the hopes not to be recognised, as if anyone would be dumb enough to be here at this hour anyway. Alone, at night, in an abandoned train carriage. A death wish. Maybe that's what I have now.

There's still hope, I could revive him. Could reverse his death with ease, I am an elite assassin after all. Killing people has become second nature to me. But how?

It's the damage I can't reverse. The guilt of knowing I killed him and causing his death. Wasting his revival, only to be brought back to more cataclysmic events. 

Maybe if he'd have been assigned a different soulmate, things would be better for Darryl. Maybe he'd be happy instead of having to constantly assist his soulmate. Not having to deal with me and how infuriating I am. Specifically, A better soulmate. Maybe, he'd still be alive. 

I always said it was ridiculous. That I didn't deserve him. Told him that it didn't make sense that I'd been given a soulmate that was sweet as an angel while I am the complete opposite. He would always tell me I was wrong, that I was perfect to him and that he wouldn't change me for anyone else.

Would he still say that now?

No, of course he wouldn't. He deserved better, Zak. Deserved better than you. 

"Why am I like this?!" I yell in frustration, slamming my hands down either side of me. An intense rush of pain shoots through the left, and I slowly glance down at a shard of glass wedged into my palm.

For a second I'm frozen, staring at the sharp edge that glints in the moonlight as I twist my hand. Watching the steady flow of red drench my fingers, a familiar feeling. Streams of blood seep from the cut, not deep enough to cause real damage. But it would get infected if it wasn't treated. 

Darryl would want me to fix it. Would demand to see it and patch it up before I left his sight. 

Well there's nothing he can do now.

The scarlet liquid oozes from the cut yet I don't care. Now that I'm alone again, I don't treat these kinds of injuries. Like I would before I found him, before I joined the elite assassins. 

Back then, I would travel at the edge of the city, without worrying about other people. Before I found Mega, another boy without his soulmate, who was also alone. Before I dared to venture into Central City. Before its' greatest medic saved my life. Before I ever found my soulmate, and that purple band I adored so fondly appeared. The same band that's now pure black.

"Geppy?"

I blink my droopy eyes a few times, looking for the owner of that voice. A voice from a million years ago, distant but unmistakable. That's one of the few names he's called me. By accident and without him even realizing, which only makes him more adorable. It was the voice of a dead person, one that I believed to never hear again. 

It's him. 

It's Darryl.

He was running towards the train carriage I took temporary refuge in. Even in the dark I can make out his figure and instantly know that it's him. He stops before me, clicking on a flashlight. 

In the dull glow I can see those brilliant forest green eyes, soft brown hair framing his pale face. Over his forehead is a tightly wrapped bandage, stains of blood still evident even through the layers of wrapping and gause. Guilt flows through me immediately upon realising where the injury is from. 

"I found you!" he squeals, voice slightly ragged from running. He shines the light towards me, eyes widening when they settle over my left hand. "Oh my goodness what happened?" he asks, reaching into his medic bag, I hadn't realised he was carrying. He must've returned to collect it after turning into a Devotion. 

Words don't come out and I fail to give a response. This only worries him more, watching nervously as he takes off his bag and climbs into the carriage. He shuts the doors I hadn't bothered to close, on the off chance anyone passes by and spots the light.

"Geppy?" he asks again worriedly, kneeling in front of me. "Zak are you ok?" I force myself to nod, hiding my hand from him. He sighs, as if expecting I'd do as such. "Let me help you."

"No" I suddenly spit with a voice I thought I'd lost. "I- no" I correct more politely. "No Darryl, I don't deserve your help-"

"You know that isn't true. I'm your boyfriend, your soulmate. I care about you-"

"You still call me your boyfriend after everything I've done to you?!" Darryl nods, as if he's confused. Like he doesn't understand a word of what I'm saying, thinking this is completely ok. 

"Of course I am!" he responds before hesitantly adding "You are my boyfriend, right?"

"That would imply that you still love me."


	3. Please Let Me Go

-Zak's POV-

Knowing what I had done, I find myself incapable to stare into his emerald-green eyes..."Which you don't.. You shouldn't after what I did to you-"

"Are you blaming yourself for this?" Darryl sounds shocked. He edges towards me, reaching a hand out to grasp mine. When I realize what he's doing I move away, receiving another worried glance.

"Zak I don't blame you-"

"How can you not blame me for this?!" I suddenly shriek, causing him to flinch. "Don't you see what happened? I killed you! You're dead! Your own soulmate caused your death! It's all my fault! All because of my choice to 'protect you'!" 

Darryl doesn't interrupt, only listens quietly. "What's the reason you got killed that day? Whose choice was to leave you down there? Directly under where those beams would fall? Wouldn't that kill anyone?" 

Screaming turns to sobbing, and soon enough I'm choking back tears. It echoes between broken sentences as I'm forced to face what I've done. "I did. My band is black because I killed my soulmate. I killed the one good thing I have in this world. How can you be so forgiving, Darryl?"

"How can you look at your soulmate, your boyfriend, the person who's supposed to protect you with every breath of their body and not hate them? Looking at your murderer, and still love them. How can you possibly still love me?"

My emotions become too overwhelming, and soon enough I'm unable to finish. My strength drains as the effect of sleepless days catches up. Countless nights crying in my bed. Our bed, with one side now empty. 

I can't find the resilience to fight back as arms wrap around me, and I hate myself for not doing so. Hate that I let him pull me into his lap, that I hold onto him tightly for comfort. He holds me close, our bodies side by side, and legs tangled together.

A pair of lips pressed against my forehead, my hair pushed back. He cradles my face with one hand as he hums a soft melody, something he always does whenever I'm upset. Always knows how well it calms me, how much I love it. His voice was so rhythmic, I wanted to sing with him. 

He was like a real angel who had come down to earth and given someone the best life. 

This angel, is the boy I got killed. 

Yet he acts like nothing ever changed. He's not disgusted by the excuse of a soulmate he was given. His so-called 'boyfriend', who ended up killing him. This weak and pathetic boy crying in his arms who is unable to accept the consequences of his act. 

Darryl stops humming, pulling away briefly to brush back my tears. He pushes my hair back out of my eyes, before pressing another soft kiss to my forehead. "Muffin, you know that wasn't your fault" he whispers.

"It never was, you can't blame yourself for something you couldn't control. Who knows what would've happened if you had brought me up there."

"You would still be alive" I respond through tears, voice quivering. 

"But you don't know that for sure" he's quick to respond. "I could've died up there. You had no idea those beams would fall, and you wouldn't have let me stay there if you had. Would you?"

I shake my head, averting my eyes from embarrassment. Embarrassed by how pathetic I am, how badly I dealt with the situation. I should've known. I've been around the area so many times, I knew it was a construction site. 

How stupid am I? 

"I'm sorry" I mumble, fumbling with my hoodie strings. "You deserved a better soulmate. You deserve so much better than me-"

"I wouldn't want anyone else." He takes my injured hand, beginning to patch it up as he speaks. "Zak you're the best thing to ever happen to me. You're perfect, I couldn't have been given a better soulmate. The system knows what it's doing, it truly did give me the best soulmate."

He boops my nose with a smile, kissing my forehead once again. Which I don't deserve. "You're an amazing little muffin and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He carefully pulls the glass shard from my hand, and I grit my teeth to suffocate a scream. 

Despite my efforts not to, seeing the pained look in Darryl's eyes I can't help but cry. Setting off another round of tears, as I weakly bury my face in his shirt.

"It's okay muffin" he shushes quietly, applying gauze and a bandage so he can hug me tightly. I melt into the embrace, deeply missing his touch over the past few days. So I savor each and every moment of it, knowing what I have to do.

"We should head home. You look really tired." It annoys me how casually he says it, acting like being dead isn't a big deal. He's already accepted himself being a Devotion and doesn't give it a second thought.

He shouldn't have to deal with me. I'm pathetic. 

"Mm too tired to move" I mumble sleepily, "Can we stay here?" Darryl smiles softly, nodding in response. He seems to notice how badly I'm shivering, pulling off his hoodie, and handing it to me. It's one I always steal, black with a red stripe down each arm. 

Silently I ask him if he's sure, earning a small giggle as he responds. "Well, I can't die anymore so there is a benefit." My stomach twists from his joke and how casually he can laugh this off. Acting like it's ok that he's dead. 

I feel myself being tugged down, and Darryl pulls me back against him as we both lay down. He hugs me tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms over me protectively. "Better, my muffin?" he asks sweetly, and my heart crumbles at the name.

My muffin.

His. He still thinks of me as his. 

Still wants me to be his and I shouldn't be. 

I nod silently, forcing out a strangled goodnight shortly after. "Night" he responds, his eyes slowly closing. 

It's then I remember how Darryl's sight has changed. His vision must be distorted, and I'm most likely one of the few things he can see in color.

Of all things. Of all the other people in the world who are way better than a murderer, it's me. It shouldn't be me that gets to have him. 

So I won't. 

I wait patiently until I'm sure he's asleep until I feel his breathing even out against my back. Carefully I turn over in his arms to face him, glancing from his peaceful features down to his soulmate band. Still, that beautiful shade of purple mine once was.

"I love you, Darryl," I tell the sleeping figure, knowing he won't hear me. Nervously I look to my own, running my thumb over the pure black. A single tear falls onto it. 

"I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for causing your death, I'm sorry for putting your life on the line so many times, and I'm sorry for being your soulmate." I take another glance at my soulmate band, sighing a deep, shuddering breath. "Don't forgive me like you always do. You deserve better than me."

I grab the band, forcing it over my wrist and off my hand. An eerie black glow surrounds my sleeping boyfriend, who's suddenly waking up. He takes one look down, eyes widening as he realizes what I've done. He tries to yell and convince me to put it back. 

"I'm sorry!" I plead, watching him fade away from me. "I'm sorry but I don't want you to get hurt again! Not because of me!" Tears fall from our eyes as we watch each other numbly, as I watch Darryl reach for my hand and grab onto it through his haze. 

As if it'll keep him here.

Like he wants to stay.

"Zak, please don't do this! I don't want to leave you!" He tries to grab my soulmate band, attempting to force it back onto my wrist, but I pull it away from him. 

Closing my eyes, I throw the black soulmate band to the ground, burying it beneath my shoe. 

"Zak!" he sobs with a broken voice, holding onto my hand like a lifeline. He knows what's happening, he knows he's fading away. "Zak please..."

I watch the black glow beneath him, unable to look into his pleading gaze and admit what I've done. A dark colour loops around my wrist, where my soulmate band once was. The pressure gripping my hand dissipated, and the countdown was set. 

It had to be done.

"I'm sorry," I tell him one last time before he disappears. Darryl's hand completely fades from mine, disappearing into nothingness. He tries to yell something, probably to convince me that I shouldn't do this, but his pleading is cut off. The last thing I see is those haunting green eyes.

My breath hitches as my former Devotion disappears from sight. Lost in the colourless world, and unable to be seen. Not by me, or by anyone. He was on his own, and I knew it was for the best. 

The tears on my face were drying and I uncovered the black soulmate band that I had stepped on. It was covered in dirt and other materials that blocked off its' jet-black color. Breaking the trance, I turned towards the exit of the train carriage and opened the doors, taking one last glance at the treasure I had once cherished. 

"You're the best muffin I could have ever asked for," I whisper, my hand shaking on the door's handle. Inside, Darryl's medic bag and sweater remain where he had left it. It wouldn't be touched again.

I had to let him go.

I slammed the train carriage doors shut, along with the passage to my soulmate. The remainders of his existence are left in the darkness forever. Hidden inside a place that I will never return to. 

"I will always love you."


	4. Can't Lose You

-George's POV-

It's never going to leave, the memory will haunt me for the rest of my life. Everything that happened that day sounds so clear in my head, almost like a bell. I can't escape it this time, I can't forget it like the first. 

That dreadful crash and blood-curdling scream from below. Just hearing that left even the fearless leader as well as my hunter, Techno in sheer horror. In those moments, a color had returned and the other faded to darkness. I took his life away that day, Darryl's life. 

When I turned to see the broken strap, everything felt like a blur when I realized the murder I had committed. Those steel beams that were once held in place killed my target, Darryl in an instant. I'm glad his death was quick. Darryl would've never expected his life to end at that very moment. His soulmate, Zak thought it would be safe from the fight above. But it wasn't. 

I killed someone again, only this time it wasn't intentional.

But I should be happy. This was my mission from the very beginning! The hunt for my target lasted for weeks or even months. All I ever wanted was to live happily alone and be safe from my hunter. 

In the end, I got what I wanted. I finally killed the right person! This boy had made me kill the innocent, just to see him dead at my hands. Pathetic. I did what I was supposed to do, he should have never chosen the path of a medic and be so defenseless. 

So why does this feel so wrong?

It shouldn't be thought that way. My target being dead revived my soulmate, Clay from my mistakes. I no longer have to bear the thought of killing someone and my hunter can't threaten me. I'm free, I don't have to run anymore like a coward. 

Knowing that Darryl is dead, Clay and I can live life without a worry. Sure, taking someone's life away is wrong but it's how the world works. Besides, it's not like I am supposed to care about Darryl anyway. 

Then why do I feel so empty?

Your life was focused on one goal, and now that you've completed it, you don't know what to do. It feels pointless. Despite my efforts, I never got the safety I intended to get. From what I've heard, Techno is more adamant than ever. He forced me and Clay to relocate. 

What I've done is irreversible. I took someone's life and completely ignored who they had and the grief I caused them. It's never easy to get through a day after killing someone. Now that I think about it, Zak must be in so much pain. 

He could be after me. I killed his soulmate after all and surely he'd want revenge. There's a chance he doesn't care, maybe he's only after his target now. If Darryl had a second life, he's probably not concerned about me anymore. 

But if he doesn't...

I take back what I said, my efforts were pointless. I didn't escape my hunter, I simply changed them. But maybe in some way it wasn't. 

I have to remind myself that despite the heavy guilt of killing two people, I've redeemed myself for one of them. Clay is alive again. I fulfilled the promise I made for him. That I would bring him back to the living and fix the damage I did. It'll be worth it. It already is.

A small smile crosses my face as I see Clay pacing around the living room of our new home. We refuged on the opposite side of town, a second-floor apartment. It is a little smaller than our old place but in a similar condition. 

What felt like hours of waiting, Clay finally sits down, swinging his legs anxiously. He bites his bottom lip, eyes darting to the small window that shows the street below. Clay has been acting like this for a few hours now, and I can understand his impatience. We are waiting for Nick, Clay's best friend that he hadn't seen for months. To him, it felt like a million years. 

"Are you sure I can't go see him? He doesn't know we relocated..." Clay pleads, not taking his eyes off the window.

"You know we can't." I remind him. "This isn't as easy as it was before when you were a Devotion. Everyone can see you now and it's not safe."

Reluctantly, he nods, shooting a disgusted look in the direction of his mask. White, with a smiley face on it, cracked in one place and splattered with blood in another. That same mask he wore in the forest, that's now on most-wanted posters in Central City.

"But what if he's nearby?" Clay supplies, looking for any excuse possible. "He's probably at our first home, miles away. Or he's with Techno."

When he finished speaking, I looked at my soulmate band and admired its beauty. It was now bright and colorful, a vibrant turquoise. But a pale blue to me. This was our color, a mixture of green for him, and blue for me. 

Clay nervously plays with his own band, almost lost in his thoughts. "I offered to look for him, and you said no" I remind Clay, who seems to be regretting that decision. 

"You're on the wanted posters too!" he protests. "You're just as vulnerable as me!"

For a few minutes, silence had gripped the atmosphere. Clay resorts to pacing the apartment and gazing hopefully out of the window whenever he passes it. It's driving us both insane to wait here, being useless and unable to go outside. We have no spare clothes, and until we get hold of some, we're too easily recognizable.

"You know, you don't have to stay here."

I turn to Clay, who's stopped in front of me, staring at the floor with guilt. "You don't have to stay here" he repeats, muttering his words without meeting my eyes. Like he's embarrassed by something. 

"What do you mean?" I ask, attempting to hide my irritation from his persistent behavior. 

The feeling suddenly goes away when I see tears falling down Clay's face, who turns away. Before I can react he runs off, his footsteps echoing through the hallway and up the stairs. 

Great. 

He's been like this ever since he turned back to normal and honestly, I don't know why. Clay is always joking and smiling, finding a way to brighten my day. But now he is more serious, nervous, and on edge all of the time. He is still reckless as ever, wanting to go out into the streets and look for Nick. Sometimes I wonder if he's forgotten that there is a bounty on him. 

Of course, I know how hard this must be for Clay. That it's been over a month since he last spoke to Nick. Having to deal with Nick abandoning him suddenly, then with me. He shouldn't have had to go through what he did. 

None of us deserve this.

After seeing how Zak acted the day his soulmate died, it reminds me that even the most heartless person has a soulmate. We all have someone to care for. Nobody chose to be this way, having to kill someone for their own happiness.

I wish this world was different. Maybe it was, long ago. Maybe there's a place out there where this system doesn't apply, where we're free from this corrupted system. Maybe a world where you could make friends, love someone, without wondering if they're just manipulating you for future betrayal. Where soulmates can live happily, and not be torn apart by murder. 

A world without the system never existed, and there won't be a chance for it. 

Sobbing breaks my train of thought, the sound of someone slamming a door shut. I quickly realized that was my soulmate. I really should have followed Clay upstairs to at least comfort him. I can't imagine how overwhelmed he is by his emotions. 

Silently I curse myself for being so stupid, quietly stepping across the loose floorboards as I make my way upstairs. The bedroom door is shut tightly, old wood sticking out like spikes and most likely caused by Clay. That's enough to tell me that he isn't okay. 

Cautiously I opened the door, saddened at the figure in my sight. Clay is shaking, knees drawn into his chest. Sobs choking in his throat, tears staining his cheeks. As soon as he sees me he panics and throws the bedsheets over his head in an attempt to hide.

"Clay..." I whisper his name softly, sitting on the opposite side of the bed as he moves further away. He pulls the sheets closer to him, knotting his hands in the fabric so I couldn't remove it. 

"I'm sorry" he hoarsely whispers. "I'm not trying to drive you away. I just feel bad that you're in danger because of me." Clay pulls the sheets down to his chin, cringing at the damp marks left by his tears. "Again" he adds bitterly.

Gently I wrap an arm around him, pulling him into a hug. "But how?" I ask gently, waiting for an explanation. 

Unable to respond to my question, Clay breaks down again, suddenly letting go of the bedsheets and clinging to my shirt instead. He knots his fingers desperately into the fabric, just like he did with the bedsheets. But with me, he refused to let go. I didn't want to let him go either. 

I wrap my arms tightly around the younger boy, caressing his back until the sobbing dies down. Clay pulls away a little, offering an apologetic look after noticing how soaked my shirt is from his crying.

"Sorry" he croaks, shuffling away from me a little. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing out the last of the tears which I brush away absentmindedly with my fingers. "It's heart-breaking to know that you're in danger because of me. You killed someone for me, and this is how I repay you."

"I'm the reason we're in this mess. I was selfish enough to kill for my own safety, without thinking about you. Stupid enough to confuse my target with my soulmate-"

"Never call yourself stupid for killing me, ever again" Clay cuts me off, a stern look masking his sadness. "You have a disability that made you confuse me with... someone else..." 

The way he trails off makes my stomach turn. He didn't mention his name, most likely to avoid another relapse. The last thing we need right now is for me to forget everything again. 

"You aren't stupid" he reiterates when the guilty look doesn't leave my eyes. "Hey, George... listen to me." Clay tilts my chin up slightly, forcing eye contact. "What happened was out of your control. You can think you're selfish, but I say you acted like that because you were scared."

Suddenly I'm pulled into a tight hug. With a smile I lean into his touch, listening to his soft voice. "Either way" Clay continues. "You were never, ever stupid for what you did." He puts emphasis on each and every word, which makes me feel a little better.

Clay offers me a smile, a more comforting one. "It's hard to imagine you getting hurt in my sight, and it simulates what I meant earlier. When I said you don't have to stay. I was suggesting you could leave, back into the woods and away from here. I would come too, but I can't-"

I cut Clay off, sensing how hard it is for him not to cry. "You can't leave Nick" I finish, and Clay nods nervously. He pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me protectively and pressing a kiss to my forehead. "But I can't lose you" he whispers, resisting the urge to cry. "Either of you."

Clay nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, and I feel the tears begin to fall again. I hold him close to me, curling strands of his blonde locks around my fingers. 

"I miss Nick" Clay whines, and I hug him a little closer, heart breaking at the pathetic pleading tone lacing his voice. "I know. But he'll find us" I soothe, promising what I don't know for certain. All I can do is hope, and be here for Clay.

"You'll see him again soon, Clay. I promise."


	5. Never Walk Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a panic attack in this chapter, but you may skip it. Just stop at the first ⚠️⚠️⚠️ and start reading again after the second.

-George's POV-

No matter how many times I visit the market in Central City, it never gets any better. You'd think after multiple trips there each week it'd get easier, but it never seems to. 

Even now, on my near twentieth trip, I can't rid the sick feeling in my stomach as it turns over anxiously. This was easier before, when I had Clay to protect me. Nobody could see him before, he was safe. Even without knowing he was invisible, I thought he was safe. 

Now there's a bounty over his head which grows each day. The number climbing from hundreds to thousands as Techno gets more and more desperate to take his rival down. He's wanted alive, probably so that Techno can kill him firsthand. Most likely in front of an audience, to prove he will take down any who rival him.

Techno's title relies on the fear of others. On proving his strength, so none challenge him. So rival assassin groups stay below him, and he remains on top. As the leader of the elite assassins, as the most powerful group in the city.

Over the past couple of days, information has been sparse. With both Clay and I in hiding, it's been hard to hear word of any new information. But from what we've grasped and put together, Techno's reputation seems to be wavering.

After word got out about his failure to kill his target, people have been speculating that someone stronger has arrived in the city. Some say it's Dream, that Techno was assigned him as his target. Others say it's someone greater, that a new force could overpower them both. 

Techno is afraid. He stands to lose what he's spent months building up, and people don't fear him like they used to. The only way he gets what he wants is through control, and that control is through fear. 

Without control, he has nothing.

No soulmate, as they remain dead. A Devotion, some say, though none have ever seen his band. It remains hidden at all times, so what people say they know, is only speculation. 

But one thing is for certain; Techno's crown is slipping.

Cautiously I duck into an alleyway beside the entrance to the market. To readjust my makeshift mask, making sure I'm unrecognisable. The darkness of the shadowed market provides little comfort when you're wanted by Technoblade. 

An all too familiar fear stings in my chest. That constant fear of everyone, ingrained in me from the years spent alone. To think there was a time when you could trust people, when you were young enough to live without a hunter. Without the constant fear of your own 'friend' killing you when your back is turned. 

That must be why the soulmate system exists. As a beacon of hope, to give you someone you can trust completely. You don't exactly get to have friends in this world, not anymore.

Not everyone would do what Nick did. He let Clay live, couldn't bring himself to kill him, not even for his dead soulmate. Nick didn't want them back if it meant he'd have to kill his best friend. He could've had someone, could've had his soulmate with him. 

Maybe then he'd be able to look me in the eyes, without that constant jealousy he tries to hide. I watch it pull him apart, tear him to shreds whenever he's forced to witness the affection he can't have. Jealousy that I have my soulmate, and he doesn't. That I can see Clay, and he can't. 

Sometimes I wonder if there's ever anger behind those cold, envious eyes. If Nick hates me, because I killed Clay. After all the effort and sacrifices Nick took to keep Clay safe, he ended up dead anyway. 

Because of me, the person who Clay is supposed to be able to trust.

This system tore them apart. It forced Nick to abandon Clay, to join the rival side with no explanation. Clay told me about that day, when he woke up without Nick. He was gone, with no explanation as to why. 

Clay searched for him for days, only to find him with the elite assassins. He felt betrayed, that Nick would leave him without even telling him why. 

It isn't fair that that had to happen, that Nick had to run away out of fear of himself, fear he'd kill Clay in the heat of an argument. It isn't fair that you can't trust friends, that you live in constant fear of being backstabbed. It isn't fair that to have happiness, you're forced to get rid of someone else's.

This system made me a murderer.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

I force my eyes shut, breathing deeply. Counting slowly in my head, like Clay taught me to when I last panicked like this.

"Breathe with me, George. It's okay."

"1...2...3...4"

I remember his words, how soothing they are to me. Something to hold onto through those dark moments. My grasp on reality when everything fades out from under me and I feel like I'm left with nothing. 

"1...2...3...4" I echo to myself, desperately wishing he was here. Which is stupid, when he offered to come with me and I wouldn't let him. 

Too dangerous, he can't be revived again. If he dies now, he's gone forever. 

Gone forever-

I try to force those thoughts away, try to remember a better time. But I can't, and soon it's overwhelming me, and I look around for Clay and realise he isn't here. That he could be dead right now, that I wouldn't let him come with me. I could've got him killed again.

I killed Clay...

I killed Darryl... 

Why does everyone get hurt because of me?

I sink to the floor in the alleyway, forgetting that my mask isn't entirely covering my face. My knees curl into my chest, making myself as small as possible. Even with my hands covering my ears it's so loud, and I can't get rid of that scream. The scream that I caused, Zak's scream, as I killed Darryl. 

Visions flash before my closed eyes, of events I forgot from long ago. Of Clay, of that band that I couldn't tell the colour of. Of his screams as I killed him selfishly, only caring for my own safety.

Stupid stupid stupid!

"Stop!"

I hear that scream, whenever I think of what I've done. Whenever I spiral back into this darkness, and get trapped back in this cage. When I'm forced to realise that I killed people. 

Not one, but two. My own soulmate.

I'm the reason Clay and Nick are apart.

I'm the reason that Zak's soulmate is dead. 

I'm the reason Clay is upset.

"Go away" I beg softly, choking on my own words. To the thoughts that haunt me, that make me remember this world. This isn't fair. "Please go away."

⚠️⚠️⚠️

"I'm not leaving you."

Suddenly there's a hand on my shoulder, firm, but not threatening. "Take deep breaths. It's okay" they tell me, and I try my best to comply. When I begin to calm down I realise I recognise the owner of that voice, a familiar one.

I'm met with Nick, kneeling in front of me with his hands on my shoulders. He hums softly, checking every few seconds to make sure we're alone. 

"How did you find me?" I ask with a trembling voice, barely able to speak evenly. 

"Luck" Nick replies casually. "Came past and you were here. Lucky nobody else got to you first." 

He checks our surroundings again, coldly glaring at someone who stops outside the alleyway for a little too long to be normal. "Please don't stop humming" I beg pathetically, tugging on Nick's sleeve as his gaze shifts back to me. 

"So that works for you too" he mumbles, more to himself than me. At the confused look on my face he elaborates. "Clay used to have these... things happen to him too. He always liked humming, it calmed him down." Another glance at the entrance to the alleyway. "Figured that if it worked with him, it might work with you too."

Nick readjusts my mask, positioning it over the side of my face exposed to the alleyway entrance. "You hurt?" he then asks, looking over me for any sign of injury. I shake my head. "Good" he smiles. "Where's Clay?"

"We relocated," I explain, and Nick sighs in relief. "So he's there? Can I see him?" I laugh quietly, amused by the way Nick's eyes light up. Like Clay's eyes do whenever he talks about Nick.

Their friendship is incredibly strong, despite all of the obstacles that have tried to keep them apart. A sigh of hope, that this cruel world can't put their spark out. 

"I actually came looking for you on his behalf. He wants to see you so badly." 

"Little Dweamy couldn't bear to go on without me" he laughs in a mocking tone. Yet despite his insults, the elite assassin can't hide his warm smile, that sparkle in his eyes bright and hopeful. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go see him!"

Nick suddenly scrambles to his feet, pulling me up with him. I nervously force a laugh, causing Nick to stop his excitement for a few seconds. He looks from me to the floor, debating something for a few seconds. 

"Want a hug?" he offers quietly with a small smile, opening his arms invitingly. 

I immediately accept, hugging the not-so threatening assassin. "Thanks for keeping Clay out of trouble, and for doing what you did" he mumbles, a slight twinge of embarrassment in his tone. "Must've been really hard to do that, especially to someone like Darryl." I nod silently, frozen at the sound of the medic's name. 

Nick suddenly cheers excitedly like a child, jumping up and down with his arms still wrapped tightly around me. "I'm so excited!" he squeals, hugging me even closer. 

"Nick I can't breathe-" I manage to choke out, causing him to let go. "Sorry" he apologises, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Let's get you two some supplies."

"Let's" I agree, surprising myself when I realise I don't have to force a smile. "Then you can see Clay again." Nick cheers in response, as pride swells in my chest, knowing that I've fulfilled my promise.

As we walk, I notice Nick zoning out. He keeps looking in the direction of our old home, a hopeful smile plastered across his face. 

'I'm sure I'll see you again someday.'


	6. Always A Reason

-George's POV-

The streets are coated in a dark orange glow by the time Nick and I leave the market. We spent the day searching for supplies, weapons, clothes, anything we can get our hands-on. 

I watch Nick search through various pieces of equipment, bouncing between stalls like a giddy teenager caught up in their shopping. Excitement radiated from him, a bright smile remaining plastered across his face at all times. People seemed shocked to see an elite assassin acting so childishly, but none would dare take a second glance in Nick's direction. He's still an assassin after all.

Even now I'm reminded of that, as I watch Nick check each and every alleyway we pass with a cautious glance in my direction. Checking low balconies and shattered windows, places I'd never think to for any oncoming attackers. 

It's clear he's skilled. Not as much as Clay, and not in the same way either. But that assessing glare is dangerous, the power he has behind those green eyes evidence he's able to read people like books. Cover to cover, nothing gets past him.

Which is why you'd never expect it from someone who looks so carefree, skipping over the cracks in the cobbled pavement like it's hopscotch. Whistling stupid songs to himself, parts of different melodies all jumbled together. 

"What's wrong, Georgie?" Nick asks in that sing-song voice, giggling as he jumps between the cracked pavement squares. 

"Don't call me that" I scoff, shooting him a disappointed glare. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just... wondering how you can act like that."

Nick suddenly stops, pausing his game to walk normally beside me. "Like what?" he asks innocently, watching me with that same glance. Trying not to look threatening, and failing miserably. 

"Like... that" I repeat, sighing at my lack of words as I try to elaborate. "I mean, how can you act so loudly like nobody cares? How can you find the courage to smile despite what's happened to you?"

My eyes trail across Nick's face, spotting the few faded scars across it. None as bad as Clay's, but still visible enough to be evident they're remains of deep wounds from long ago. 

I trace my thumb over my own scar, just one, unlike him. Unlike Clay, or Zak, or anyone else who must've seen worse than I did. Been through worse, and come out better. I try to collect my jumbled thoughts, resorting to one question.

"How do you manage to see so much good in things?"

"There's always some good in everything" Nick responds quietly. "Think about it. There's always a reason to be happy, we just lose sight of it sometimes. Because there's a balance, and bad things have to happen too..."

Nick trails off, the spark in his eyes extinguished suddenly. "I remember... a certain thing..." He responds after a few moments of silence. "That always makes me feel guilty-"

"Clay probably told you before that my hunter was a challenge, and the reason he's got the majority of the scars he does today." I think back to the market fight, when I saw Nick's hunter for the first time. Illumina, one of the assassin leaders. 

"Not as bad as your hunter was" Nick laughs forcefully. "But still lethal. There were many occasions where he almost had me." Nervously, the assassin fumbles with the black band around his wrist. Probably thinking about his soulmate, and how he almost met the same fate as they did. 

"By saving me, Clay saved two people. Me, and my soulmate. They have a chance to come back because of him." Nick smiles fondly to the dark ending sky above, slowly fading from a deep orange sunset dusted with pink. "I just hope I can do that chance justice."

"I'm sure you will, Nick" I yell at him, wholeheartedly believing it. Nick has the capability to kill whoever he needs to, I'm sure of it. If I managed to bring my soulmate back, he can too. 

"Thanks" Nick sighs, at last letting go of his soulmate band. He takes one last glance at it, before forcing himself to look away. "Well c'mon then, I have a best friend to see."

"Actually see, this time" I smirk, causing a similar response from Nick. 

"Yeah, actually see."

~~~

-Clay's POV-

I watch the sky darken from the small window in our new home, swinging my legs slowly as I wait for George to return. He's been gone all afternoon, and was adamant I couldn't go with him. 'Too dangerous', 'can't risk it'. So I'm forced to wait here alone, anxiously waiting for him to come back.

It's at times like this that I catch myself almost wishing I was still dead. Being a Devotion was ok, I could watch over George that way. It was easier to keep him safe, even with how little damage I could do in a fight. Information was easier to get hold of too, being invisible did have its' perks.

The only real downside to being a Devotion, was Nick. I could deal with being invisible to everyone when I had George, there wasn't anyone I cared about anyway. Except Nick. 

Every time I'd pass him in the streets, the market, anywhere, I'd feel upset. Just one glance in his direction made me feel sick. To see him with them, the elite assassins. The people we'd spent so long avoiding, fantasising the downfall of. 

It made me feel sick, to see him as one of them. To look like one of them, interact with them like they're friends.

I remember my own time spent as an elite assassin, how much I hated it. Every minute I spent under Dave's control felt like betrayal, it felt so wrong. Even if I knew it was for research, that I wasn't planning on staying permanently, I couldn't stand it.

I remember that day, when I woke up to find the sleeping bag next to me empty. Supplies gone, no trace of my best friend left behind. 

I remember seeing him with them for the first time. The anger that burnt through me, seeing him smile and laugh with them. How proud he looked to be one of them, to have left me. I felt betrayed, like the friendship we had meant nothing to him. 

George would talk about his lack of friends sometimes. I was always conflicted, wanting to gain his trust by proving that I could be his first. 

But it was hard to tell someone these things, when I thought about the only person I ever considered as a true friend. To remember that thought I'd shoved to the back of my mind, that he didn't care about me. He left me, to join the opposition with no explanation. 

It made me question everything. The years we'd spent together, the countless times I'd saved him. The scars I'd gained from doing so, and the pain it put me through. 

Yet somehow, I couldn't find it in myself to hate him.

Maybe I knew all along. Held on to the feeling that here had to be a reason for his actions, that I meant something to my best friend. That maybe, one day, he'd come back for me. 

I ponder this thought, casting my gaze across the street below. Looking for him, for my soulmate, for the two people in this world I'd die again for. 

George would always ask me why I still loved him. If I felt obliged to, because he was my soulmate. He felt guilty, understandably, like he didn't deserve me. 

The same feeling that I felt towards Nick when he left. Guilty, like I'd done something wrong. Angry, that he'd do such a thing to someone who did so much for him. 

Hopeful, that it wasn't all in vain. 

It was that final thought, that led me to forgiving him. Before I knew why it happened, and had to make the decision. When I woke up with him beside me, having fainted merely moments before. 

It was at that point that I had to make my decision. Whether to leave him, or help. I knew he was the only way I could be revived, but I didn't care about that back then. My own soulmate killed me, and my best friend abandoned me for the enemy. 

But looking at that boy, sprawled out on the bloody wooden floor, made me think of Nick. When he was attacked for the first time, I found him in a similar position.

It reminded me that if I still believed there was some good in Nick, there had to be some in this boy too. Had to be an explanation for his actions, why he'd kill his own soulmate even when I didn't even fight back. 

There had to be a reason.

That's why I chose to give George a second chance, knowing there had to be a reason. Why I still referred to Nick as my best friend, despite what happened. In some way, I knew all along.

I remind myself of this as I pace the main room nervously, checking each window I pass. Excitement and fear burn through me, making my stomach turn anxiously. 

I've technically already spoken to Nick since he became an elite assassin, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't see me, making the conversation confusing. 

Yet despite that, it felt fine. It wasn't awkward, we could talk as two normal people. Not as the best friends we used to be, but it was a start. I'm determined to rebuild that bond, and get us out of here.

I'm so absorbed in my determination that I barely notice the creaking of the ladder as someone climbs towards the apartment. Two people, I realise, and have to force myself to calm down and think logically.

Trying my hardest to hide my excitement I pretend it's an intruder, forcing myself to go through the same safety procedure as usual. Grab a weapon, preferably a long blade, and hide on the opposite side to the way the door swings open. Which is in this case, the left. 

I've done this so many times before that it feels normal. Watched Nick do the same every time Illumina attacked. The adrenaline that coursed through him as he stood with his blade aimed for the intruder's throat. 

When the door swings open I'm unprepared, suddenly panicking and barely catching myself. My effort is however futile when I trip trying to avoid my weapon I dropped, falling right in front of the doorway.

In which he stands.

Our eyes lock for a second, neither of us able to move. 

Stunned.

I watch his green eyes, just a little darker than my own, widen at the sight of me. He reaches his hand out in front of him, almost as if in a trance, resting it on my arm nervously. Slowly I clasp my own hand over his, giving it a small squeeze in reassurance. 

His gaze slowly drags upwards, until those dark green eyes are level with my own. I'm aware of someone else slowing the door behind them, but I don't give it a second thought. Not when he's here.

Nick is here.

"C-can you hear me?" I ask in a trembling voice. His face lights up in wonder, as his eyes widen. Hearing me, understanding what I said. A few strained seconds pass, in complete silence. 

Until there's suddenly someone in my arms, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe. My arms instinctively wrap around my best friend, a warm smile tugging at my lips.

"Loud and clear."


	7. Never Alone

-George's POV-

The two best friends are inseparable for the rest of the day. They spend hours talking, making the most of each other's company. Despite our current situation meaning Clay effectively can't leave these four walls, they find a way to make it work.

I remain mostly quiet, sorting through our supplies as the two boys catch up on the past month and a half. Smiling brightly the entire time, making sarcastic remarks at each other with occasional insults. 

At one point I catch myself smiling almost as brightly, a warm and comforting feeling from just seeing my boyfriend smile. My eyes keep trailing back to him, to his bright eyes that still glisten with the ghosts of happy tears. To his contagious wheeze, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, and the little dimples that slightly distort his freckles when he laughs.

Beautiful. 

That boy is beautiful, and he's mine.

I look through some more supplies, absentmindedly twisting the band around my wrist in thought. Turquoise, where once black, no longer a reminder of the damage I've done in the past. Instead a reminder that I've fixed it and have my soulmate back.

The two boys behind me suddenly erupt into another fit of giggles, and I turn around just in time to see Clay elbow Nick in the ribs. The elite assassin clutches at his stomach, laughing even harder before punching Clay lightly. 

"You're so awful" Clay manages to gasp out, shaking his head as his laughter dissolves. "It's true, though. Isn't it?" Nick retorts, sticking out his tongue childishly. 

I watch the two boys argue playfully, eyes drawn to their wrists as they throw halfhearted punches at each other. To Clay's band, matching my own in colour. Even though I'm unable to see the true colour of the bands, I can tell they're beautiful. My band matches his, and that's all that matters. It's our colour.

Nick's band is all too familiar to me. Black, drained of all colour. Of the colour it never was, never got to be before Nick's soulmate was taken away from him. His band appeared black, signifying not that he found his soulmate, but that they had died before he met them.

I can't imagine what it must've been like, to have that band suddenly appear one day. To find out that the person you're supposed to kill for your soulmate is your best friend, your only friend. Nick was forced to make a choice nobody should have to make. 

Nick feels guilty, I can see it in his eyes. We both do, knowing the scars littering the face of the boy we love so dearly are our fault. That he was hurt because of us, and every time we look at him we're reminded of it. 

I know that I'd want the person who gave me my scar to feel guilty. I'd want Charlie to look at me and remember the damage he caused to a child. 

Realise that that same child, now near double the age they were back then, is still affected by what he did. Made to feel like an outcast because of him, because of the bullying over something nobody can control.

It hurt, did more damage than he could ever know. Even now his actions affect me, and I remember every word he said. Every insult thrown at me over the years, not just from him.

People don't understand the damage they can cause.

Which is what makes it worse for me. On the days where I'm reminded of what I did, of the damage I did to my own soulmate. When I can't look my own boyfriend in the eyes without feeling remorseful, the guilt that rings through me knowing the pain I put him through.

That must be how Nick feels.   
All that, and worse. 

Even now, I can tell the way Nick's thoughts bother him. The way they swarm his head and remind him of the person before him. The same person he abandoned without wanting.

Nick blames himself for Clay's death. It amazed me at first, how Nick didn't seem to mind talking to his best friend's murder. How he couldn't blame me, didn't seek revenge despite knowing he could easily kill me. Before he knew we were soulmates, or why I did what I did.

It's because he doesn't blame me. I'm not the only one with a guilty conscience, whose mind is their own worst enemy. 

Everyone had a weakness. Some insecurity or dark secret that can be used against them. No matter how insignificant, how much people try to mask it and hide it and pretend it's not there, it still remains. 

This world targets those weaknesses, with a system designed to make people assess each other, figure out their flaws. Loved ones, friends, past experiences that can be used against them. Clay is of course a weakness that can be exploited with Nick, but not the major one. 

Nick's worst enemy isn't Illumina.

It's himself. 

~~~

"You wanted to talk?"

Nick returns shortly after nightfall, from an elite assassin's meeting out of town. He didn't want to stay here, due to it 'possibly endangering us', but I asked him to return. To ask him the things Clay won't.

"Yeah, I did." I watch Nick unbuckle his weapons, casting them aside under his supplies. All but one, a long, sharp blade. He never removes it from the leather strap on his leg, probably for emergency reasons. 

"Alright then. What about?" He sits on the bed opposite, untying the white, faded bandana from around his head. "Should probably wake Clay" he adds, signalling to the boy next to me. Asleep, curled into my side with his head resting against my shoulder. 

"No" I respond plainly. "He doesn't need to. Plus he hasn't slept in a while." Nick's eyes soften sympathetically as they linger over the sleeping boy. "Don't blame him," Nick whispers. "I'd be terrified if I was in his position."

As if on cue Clay suddenly stirs, fingers knotting fearfully into the fabric of my shirt. "Ssh," I soothe, threading my fingers through his soft, blonde hair. When his grip doesn't loosen I pry his fingers away, interlocking them with my own. 

"It's okay," I whisper to him softly, caressing the back of his hand with my thumb. His long eyelashes flutter briefly before settling, heavy-lidded eyes falling shut.

When I look up Nick's eyes are focused on us. A conflicted look in his eyes, glistening slightly with what I can only presume are tears. "You alright Nick?" I ask quietly, immediately cursing myself for asking something so stupid.

"Yeah..." he trails off, fumbling with the black band around his wrist. "I just..." Silence fills the room. Empty and cold, the pleasant and warm tone from earlier having vanished completely.

"Is it possible to miss someone you've never met?"

Nick chews on his lip nervously as he awaits my reply, almost as if he's embarrassed. "I've never met my soulmate, but I miss her...or him." Nick stumbles over his words, trying to clarify.

"It does make sense." I slowly drag my fingers through Clay's hair, smiling at the sound of a soft hum echoing from his lips. He leans further into my side, wrapping an arm around me tightly. 

"I want them back" Nick suddenly says with certainty. "I really, really want them back. I've been surrounded by happy soulmates for so long and I know it's selfish but it makes me so jealous." Nick wraps and unwraps his bandana around his wrist anxiously, occasionally dragging a hand through his jet black hair. 

"It's not selfish at all" I tell Nick, strongly believing it. "You want to be loved. Everyone does, that's completely normal." Nick nods silently, unable to meet my eyes. Guilt seeps through me, realising that I'm probably only making this worse for him.

"I want to have someone like that" Nick mumbles to the floor. "Like you and Clay. Like Zak and Darryl." The mention of Darryl's name is enough to make the guilt worse. I shift uncomfortably, tightening my grip on Clay's hand for comfort.

"How are Zak and..." I trail off, unable to say his name. Can't think of him without feeling worse.

"Zak's been reclusive" Nick mutters, chewing fiercely on his lip. "Changed a lot recently. He avoids everyone and hides his soulmate band. Not to mention he's really quiet during meetings too."

The sick feeling grows in my chest. "You've not seen him talk to Darryl at all?"

In the fading light, I manage to catch the shadow of the elite assassin's figure. Shaking his head. "Not even once. Haven't seen him around much, actually. He keeps disappearing..."

Nick sighs, redirecting his gaze to the ceiling absentmindedly. "I'm starting to wonder if Darryl is even with him at all." He glances at the band on his wrist, forcing himself to let go of it. 

This side of Nick seems almost foreign, unrecognisable as the same, smiling boy I saw yesterday or even a few hours ago. Life seems drained from him when he's alone.

"All I want is to be loved" the elite assassin mumbles. "To have someone by my side, to not have the pressure to kill someone." He swings his legs back and forth slowly, gaze trailing back to the boy now asleep against my chest. 

"I want someone to look at me the same way he looks at you." Nick smiles weakly, suddenly standing. "I need to leave. Didn't you want to ask about something?" 

"It's nothing." I can't bring myself to pry for information, not when Nick is like this. "Alright then" he replies, grabbing his things and readjusting his weapons. He ties his bandana back around his head, taking a few attempts to knot it with trembling fingers.

"Look after each other" he tells me, signalling to Clay with a soft smile. "Don't lose him again. He needs you." 

The door swings open, stirring Clay. He opens his bleary eyes slightly, catching a glimpse of his best friend. "Bye Nick" he mumbles with a sleepy smile, offering a small wave in goodbye. Nick returns the gesture, forced smile becoming a little more real. 

"Nick?" I suddenly call his name as he's about to leave. The black haired boy stops in the hallway, turning on his heels to face me. 

"Yes?" 

"You'll get them back one day." I offer a weak smile in reassurance.

"How can you be so sure?" he spits almost angrily. In jealousy, that he's been so long without his soulmate while everyone else he's around has theirs. 

"Because I thought the same once, and you told me I'd get Clay back. Look what happened." I signal to the sleeping blonde beside me. 

"Maybe, but things don't work out for me like they do for you." Bluntly, leaving without another word. 

In the silence that follows Nick's departure, I can't help but realise how right he is. The chances of being dealt your best friend, only friend, are next to zero. Yet he was, as well as his soulmate dying before he met them. 

Then there's his hunter, possibly the most dangerous person after Techno. Nick told me that this wasn't fair. To have so many things go wrong for me, the worst hand of cards he'd ever seen. The worst, except for maybe his own. 

Maybe Clay isn't the only one in danger after all...

~~~

The room is left in silence for a few seconds as I run through the thoughts in my head. Trying to be calm, think about anything other than the medic and his now alone soulmate.

"Is Nick okay?" I'm suddenly asked in a sleepy voice, turning to see Clay staring back at me. Soft green eyes heavy with sleep, hair matted at awkward angles from where my hands were resting in it. "He's okay. Go back to sleep." 

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"M'kay" Clay mumbles in his half-asleep state. He pulls at my sleeve, trying to get me to lay with him. Silently I comply, pulling our small supply of blankets tighter around us both. Like it'll protect us from this world. 

Please make sure to come back safely Nick. We still need you..


	8. Yours No Longer

-Zak's POV-

Walking through the streets of Central City isn't the same without him.

It's strange after all this time. To walk without him by my side, knowing that he was there for so long. Relying on that small sense of comfort, that there's always someone there for me. 

Even when I walked the streets alone, it felt like he was here.

Now I feel nothing.

I can understand the feeling of betrayal all these people feel. I know what they're thinking. Everyone, even my own 'friends' glare at me like I've done something wrong. They always look at my wrist, searching for the band that's no longer there. 

Everyone loved Darryl, it was obvious they did. I mean, he saved countless lives and would insist on helping anyone. Not to mention that this angel was kind to everyone. For him, there was no such thing as negativity. 

With him gone, I've gone back in time to my lonely past. The impact he had on this bleak and broken world was astonishing. It feels dark once again, because the only flame that made me brighter is now snuffed out.

When I recall those moments in the train carriage, I knew I had the choice to keep him here. I could have kept him as my Devotion despite his 'accidental' death. I'd still be able to hear him and see him like he was never crushed by those beams. 

He told me he wouldn't care that he couldn't talk to anyone else, that nobody else would be able to see him. That was because in his eyes, I was the only one he needed. His words echo in my head, making me wonder if I made the right decision.

'It doesn't matter. I have you, and that's all I ever wanted.'

Taking his words into deep consideration, I knew he deserved better than me. This was an angel who I got killed and dispelled him without a reason. I didn't warn him before I made my choice that day. 

I removed my soulmate band and banished him to that so-called void people only ever speak of through rumors. They say that any Devotion that goes there will never come back. 

Over the past few days since I revoked his existence, I've debated what I did. People oddly look at me, and I see those warm moments of other soulmates being together. 

When I see the smiles of those talking to their Devotions, like George did, it's like you're forgetting that they're dead..

George. That boy who claimed my soulmate's life, but he wasn't the main reason for Darryl's death. Well, that's because it is me. 

First I made the decision to leave Darryl down there, and George accidentally killed him with the steel beams. It clearly adds up. If I didn't make that decision, then he would still be alive. Maybe if I had made myself stay down there instead of him, I would be the one who died. That would be better for everyone. 

I've heard many rumours around the city. People think that I disappear some days to plan my revenge. They think I'll kill George for taking my boyfriend away from me. That spread like wildfire in the market square, especially an ever-growing bounty haunting George himself. 

Techno wants revenge, and it's obvious he does. His pride was tainted and his reputation diminishing upon realizing that Dream is alive again. Even failing to kill George; his target. Sometimes I can hear him yelling to himself, almost like he's talking to someone. 

Since Dave arrived all those years ago, numerous groups have tried to overthrow the self-proclaimed king of Central City. Assassins, people who work alone and mass groups like Illumina's. None have succeeded, and it's better for it to stay that way. 

Sometimes, I remember when I first arrived in this city. With my only friend, Mega. I convinced him to venture to Central City with me, so I could retrieve my target profile. Going there felt strange after months in the forest, my only companion being a boy who wouldn't talk. 

We split up briefly on the day we arrived. Mega went to pick up supplies from the market square while I retrieved my profile. Hopefully, we would bail fast out of the city known to be crawling with assassins. Including the most dangerous of all, the Elite Assassins.

Never did I think I'd join them. I wasn't planning on staying in the city at all because I wanted to hide in the forest forever. But realistically, I knew that wasn't going to happen. 

It's hard to remember. But I can recall a thought of never meeting my soulmate, and a black band appearing on my wrist one day. Well, I predicted the future now didn't I?

I needed to be strong. People had to fear my name like Technoblade, so nobody would dare even think about harming me or my soulmate. My priority ever since I met Darryl, back on that horrible night all that time ago, was to protect him.

Nothing has changed.

That night is faint in my head, compiled loosely of jumbled fragments over the hours I spent drifting in and out of consciousness. Countless hours of screaming in agony, waiting for death to take me.

At no point did I think I'd survive. It was agonizing and I just wanted to die then. But I didn't want to leave him, my soulmate I'd only just met. The boy who dressed like a devil but had the heart of an angel.

I remember how he stayed by my side for hours, desperately fighting to keep me alive. People have heard the stories, and some think it's not true. They think the scars that litter my face aren't the remains of fatal wounds. The long on the back of my neck circles to the front. They don't know about that. I wouldn't wish what happened to me on anyone.

Well, except the person I'm heading to meet.

Our meeting used to be held in the evening. When the sun was setting, and nightfall spread its blanket of fear over the city. I liked it that way, when I could sneak out without having to explain to my boyfriend why I kept disappearing every few nights. 

Why I'd venture to the other side of the city, to meet with an anonymous figure far worse than Technoblade could ever be.

Yet here I am, walking through the streets in broad daylight, unafraid to meet them. Not bothering to check the alleyways before I pass through them or spare a thought for my safety. Maybe I should, as I now determine the fate of two people's lives.

It's been three weeks. Three weeks since my soulmate died, and two weeks since I've spoken to him. Nobody knows why I'd remove my band, especially given the connection Darryl and I had. More than just a soulmate connection. Everyone thinks I'm crazy.

But I'm not.

A true soulmate protects their lover. Would sacrifice for the greater good. The reason I trained, became stronger, became an Elite Assassin, was so that I could protect my soulmate. So that they wouldn't have to rely on murder to ensure their safety. They'd have me to protect them.

I swore that I'd protect my soulmate. That was always my intention, my top priority. Protecting, Darryl, keeping him safe. Being there for him.

I'm not there for him now. I blocked him out, but only because I had to. That was the sacrifice I had to make for his safety.  
My priorities haven't changed.

He doesn't understand. But he will, one day. If my plan succeeds, he'll understand someday.

And if it doesn't, then we go down together.

~~~

When I walk into the lobby, I hold my head high. This is the first time in weeks, maybe even months, that I've walked in here with a smile on my face. The destroyed hotel lobby almost seems ironic, the fear it used to cast over me every time I visited.

Now it seems normal, the shattered window panes and chandelier glass around me almost a comforting presence. Light reflects off every fragment glinting in the midday sun and causing a glowing ring around me. Like a halo, but not like the one they wear. 

Like a true halo, identical to the one I could've sworn circled my boyfriend's head in those fractured memories from so long ago.

As if on cue, my left eye begins to sting. This has happened a few times for a while now, specifically when I think about him. 

It's always him.

The elevator rings, doors creaking open as the usual hooded figure arrives to attend to the visitors. Or visitor, as it's always been just me. Even with the mask concealing their face, I can tell there's a smug grin on the lips of the figure. 

Psychotic, knowing what will happen to me after failing to report on anything for three weeks. Thinking they will know what will happen, and never expecting what I have planned.

In silence I'm escorted to the main office on the top floor. Where they await, probably full of threats that are now all empty. I walk down the halls with a smile, swinging open the door without bothering to knock. Walking in with that confident facade I'm known for flaunting, yet this time it's real.

"You've failed to report for how long?" The figure in that chair, with the black halo above his head asks. I don't bother waiting for permission to sit, instead inviting myself to take one of the more comfortable armchairs in a different part of the room.

"Three weeks? Or four maybe, I've lost count," I shrug casually, shooting a psychotic grin in the direction of the hooded figure closest to me. They seem unfazed, that is, until I produce a blade from my scabbard. The blade I was gifted all those years ago, adorned with the Elite Assassin's crest and encrusted with diamonds.

"Yet here you are now, acting like you aren't afraid. With the nerve, Mr Ahmed, after all this time to waltz into my office like you aren't scared of me." I stare down the hooded figure, face obscured with that same black mask. It takes all my self-restraint not to slice the mask from their face right there and then.

But I manage to contain my anger, instead savouring the fear radiating from every other figure in the room as I get up from my chair and make my way to the centre of the room. Climbing onto the splintered desk, right in front of the person who's caused me hell for almost a year.

So I take my time, crouching down until I'm at eye level with them, smiling defiantly as I tell them what I've wanted to believe for so long.

"I'm not scared of you." 

For three, long seconds, nobody moves. The room is left in stunned silence, the inhabitants either scared out of their minds or eagerly awaiting the next move. My smile doesn't falter, not once do I show fear. Nothing happens, until I repeat my words.

"I'm not scared of you. Not anymore."

That's when the sword is swung at my head.

I'm prepared, ducking the blade and grabbing hold of the hilt of the sword. Another attack from behind, which slices through my sleeve. Barely grazing skin, unlike my retaliating blow. I pull my secondary blade from its holder, a dagger with a curved edge. 

The combination of the two weapons has always been one of my favourites. Hard to manoeuvre with for any used to a heavy blade, but perfect for those with agility. Which happens to be the area I excel in.

I fend off my oncoming attackers with little to no injuries earnt. It's almost comical how quickly I can take down those I've feared for so long. If only I'd have known this sooner, I may have been tempted to fight back before now. I don't back away from fights, even ones like these. Fights with intent to kill.

I've killed before, and I'm not afraid to do so again.

When my opponents tire. I continue. "You're scared" I smirk in the leader's direction. "You're scared of this world and what it can do to you. Scared of something you can't use threats to take control of."

"He'll pay for this! Darryl will pay in your name!" The words I've always feared, done anything to avoid. Threats on Darryl's life. 

Empty. Useless.

"He isn't here for you to harm anymore" I spit defiantly. "There's nothing you can do to him now. You and I will never find him or see him again. Your threats mean nothing to me anymore!"

"Then you shall pay!" They scream, slamming their fists against the now bloodied desk. "I'll kill you! You will pay for this!"

"You'll kill me?" I ask belittlingly, mimicking the whining voice of a small child. "Look around you." I signal to the room around us. 

Anything that isn't torn is bloody, shredded curtains and crumbling walls. Priceless furnishings destroyed beyond salvaging. "You can't kill me. You clearly don't know who you're messing with."

I step back onto the desk, surveying the room and addressing my wounded, venomous audience. "You cannot overpower an elite assassin," I tell him, pride in my tone. I said I'd be strong enough. This is what I wanted.

The work I've collected lays at my feet. I pick it up, sifting through target profiles and information that took months to gather. Everything I've provided, I stack it all into one, staggering pile.

Looking through everything I've given away, the betrayal of my group. Betrayal of my own soulmate, the information I stole from him and lies I fed him. Putting it all into a pile before me and the leader of this hellhole. 

He glares at me, mask failing to hide the fury in his eyes. Slowly, I pick up the small box beside me, taking out one of the items inside.

Lighting a match, which I drop into the papers before us. 

Flames engulf the hundreds of papers, burning them beyond recognition. Smoke fills the air, only adding to the horror scene I've created. 

"Always a first time for arson, bitch," I tell them. 

"What the fuck have you done?!" The hooded leader screeches, watching as I drop a second lit match into the pile. Casually, as if the flames aren't centimetres away from burning me.

I turn to him, smiling sweetly as I watch them all choke on the flames. Yet the world seems to slow down as they all stare at me. Even through those masked faces, you can tell there's something wrong. For the first time, genuine fear emits from everyone in the room. 

Even the leader themselves. 

"Y-your eye..." they stutter, pointing a trembling finger towards me. I catch my reflection through the smoke in a shattered mirror, suddenly understanding their fear. 

In the midst of the flames, I could see a jet black speck stand out on the left side of my face. Even through the cracked reflection, I could feel the horror emitting from the sight. It was straight out of hell itself, an unscripted curse. It stood out from every scar, and everything about me. 

Where my shining yellow eye used to be was replaced by an iridescent black color, the iris reduced to a glowing white speck.


	9. Like The Past

-George's POV-

"Catch me if you can, bitch!"

I watch nervously as Nick barely makes the jump between two oak trees, clinging to a branch that looks far too weak to hold his weight. He shoots his competitor a daring glance, smiling confidently as he climbs further and further from the ground. 

"That is so unfair," Clay groans as he watches Nick reach the canopy of the great tree. "Are you really that bad that you have to resort to using my fear of heights against me?"

"All is fair in love and war, dreamy-boy." Despite his words, Nick climbs down a few branches, emerging from the canopy to stay just a little higher up than Clay. 

The blonde sighs, checking for the best branch to support him before jumping. "Why did you choose to be the runner this time?" he yells to his best friend. "I'm always the runner!"

Nick shrugs his shoulders, briefly losing his balance, which he regains just in time. This reminds me of a time before, when Clay and I first stumbled across Zak in this same forest. 

Not far from here either, but that time feels so far away. When I was still plunged so far into the dark of this seemingly scripted world, without the knowledge of what I had done. 

That same wooden shack where it happened is still nearby, and I knew Clay could tell from the way he'd immediately taken his and Nick's game in the opposite direction. To avoid me seeing it again, relapsing back to square one and ending up back where I started.

Lost and alone.

Yet despite all I know now, I still feel lost. Still in the dark, just with more blood on my hands.

Then literally in the dark, as my glasses are pushed over my eyes.

"Daydreaming probably isn't the best thing to do while we're out in the forest, Georgie!" Nick hollers from just above me, amused by my displeased expression. Suddenly there's a menacing yell from behind, scaring both of us. 

"Come here Sapnap!" 

The runner shrieks, jumping between trees so quickly to escape he's bound to fall any minute. Yet somehow, he doesn't, making it far with only a few bruises gained in the process.

Clay drops to the ground beside me, adjusting my glasses so that they sit comfortably in my hair as they did before. "Something on your mind?" he asks with a soft smile, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

"Just... thinking," I respond, casting my eyes in the direction of that awful place. I've been trying to ignore it, yet my mind can't help but track the direction it's in.

Clay decides not to pry, following the direction of my gaze towards what he knows isn't far out of view. He seems to notice something else though, taking a few steps away from me to stop in the centre of some flowers. 

All the same kind, a bright shade of blue. Strangely shaped, and as Clay brings a few back to me, I notice they look like stars.

"Platycodon," he observes, wheezing in that characteristic way of his upon noticing the confused look on my face. "They're called balloon flowers," he clarifies, and I pretend that I understand him with a nod. 

I reach for one of the blueish flowers, but Clay holds them out of my reach. "These aren't for you," he says. "They don't mean the right thing."

"I forgot you know flower meanings." After reaching for the flowers one more time I give in, rolling my eyes. "So, what exactly do they mean?" Clay suddenly yells Nick's name, waiting until he comes close enough, then throwing the flowers for him to catch. 

"For you," he smiles, mimicking a romantic tone as Nick dramatically makes a scene out of smelling the flowers. Which ends awfully, with choked splutters and a cloud of pollen fogging out around the black-haired boy.

Clay bursts into laughter, watching Nick brush away the pollen with a disgusted glare. "There a reason you handed me the flowers instead of your boyfriend?" he asks as he drops the flowers on top of Clay. 

"They're for you!" the blonde manages to choke out, collecting the flowers that land on him and handing them back to Nick, who looks his friend with a death glare before taking them hesitantly. "Then explain!"

I watch the two boys argue over the flowers, throwing them at each other as they continue their game among the trees. Slyly I pick up the ones they drop, stuffing the crumpled petals into Nick's backpack.

As I follow the two around, I examine the flowers at my feet, taking more notice of them than before. I try to guess the colours of some, smiling proudly as I recall some from the flowers Clay has shown me before. 

One type particularly catches my eye, recognisable from before. A peony, specifically a red one. I remember that strange shade in my vision, how I mixed up the colours of them last time.

"Looks nice in your hair. Shame you can't see red, but it suits you."

Normally I don't remember the meanings of most of the flowers. Clay likes to point them out a lot, he seems to know almost all of them. It's strange, how his vision as a devotion was the same when it came to flowers. 

Every object was greyscale for him, except flowers. Maybe that's why he learnt so many of the meanings, because of the beauty of them. Peonies, specifically red ones, symbolise love.

I pick up a clump of the flowers and put one in my hair, just like Clay did. The rest I put into his bag, laughing to myself as I notice the large amount of pollen in the centre of each flower.

The two boys above finish their game, climbing down from the treetops as the sun begins to set. "There's something weird over there." Nick points to one of the tallest trees, the setting sun still providing enough light to depict the outline of something nestled among the leaves.

"Looks like an assassin camp," Clay observes, climbing the nearest tree to get a better look. "Not one of ours," Nick shrugs. "Closest one to here is further out a few miles west."

"Then maybe a different group's?" I suggest, the two younger boys nodding in response. "Probably. Not the best idea to take supplies from."

"But there's normally a lot of supplies in those camps..." Nick wonders aloud. "Maybe if we use that tree-"

"No."

"Too scared to go up that high?" Nick shoots Clay a daring glare, trying to initiate another competition. "No, it's too dangerous. If there's people up there we'll be dead before we get halfway up."

Nick scans the tree, already looking for the best route up it. "People don't stay in these bases after nightfall. Its probably uninhabited at this hour."

"It's not after nightfall," Clay deadpans, signalling to the still setting sun. "There's still enough light for anyone up there to see us."

"Its worth a shot. We need those supplies, Clay." Nick doesn't even wait for Clay's response, already a few branches up by the time we reach the bottom of the tree. 

I almost yell the elite assassin's name, Clay putting a finger to my lips as soon as he notices. Telling me to stay quiet, in case there is anyone above us. I nod, then begin to panic as I realise there's no longer anyone stood beside me.

When I look up, I notice Nick has reached the structure among the leaves. He tells something to Clay, too quietly for me to hear. "Nobody up there," Clay repeats to me, sighing to himself. I can't tell if its in relief, or anger.

Slowly I join them at the top, realising that the tree isn't too hard to climb. There are footholds dug into the tree, little ones, meant for someone quite a bit smaller than us. 

I only make it halfway up when I hear a scream, looking up in terror in fear that someone was inside after all. Quicker I climb, reaching the top to find it the camp empty except for Clay and Nick.

The place is a bloodbath. Crimson stains the wooden structure, covering almost every inch of the room. Upon closer inspection the blood seems old, possibly weeks or even months. 

"Oh my god..." Nick breathes, eyes wide with horror. "What happened here?!" The three of us search the room for answers, for any weapons left behind or a sign of who owns this place.

Nothing, except for one detail. 

One detail that makes me remember.

I've been here before.

The detail wouldn't be any help to Nick or Clay, to anyone except the few of us that knew the owner of the one item laying in this room:

A bee plushie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platycodon:
> 
> Greek words "platys", which means "broad" and "kodon", meaning "a bell", in reference to the shape  
> Platycodon is a symbol of friendship.


	10. New Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with the same PoV as chapter 1 -   
> This chapter is PAST TENSE and consecutive to the flashback in chapter 1.

-??? POV-

"Do you think it's better up there?"

I hug the shivering boy's body closer to my own, supporting his frail figure as he turns his head to the sky. His eyes were distant, but it never lost that vivid ocean-blue colour.

"Where?" I ask, following his gaze to the ceiling. Ignoring the silent room, and the scene that remains only a floor below us. Ignoring the door which showed a glimpse of the bloodied stairs, caught in the slit of light that shone dimly through the apartment.

"Up there." Tommy extends a trembling finger, pointing upwards. His gaze falls to the stairwell beyond, and I slowly push the door closed with my foot. Like it'll hide it from him, as if the damage isn't there.

The damage was already done.

"Probably," I shrug, attempting to redirect the teenager's attention. "I bet it's nice away from here."

"Do you think Wilbur and Phil like it there?" The sudden sadness behind the tone of a boy I'm used to only seeing smiling hurts, tears at something inside of me. This isn't fair. Nobody his age should have to deal with a world as cruel as this one.

But that's how this world is, how it's meant to be.

"I'm sure they love it there, Tommy." I smile to the blonde, ruffling his hair more gently than I usually would. He giggles softly, a sweet sound until his laughter draws thin and the light drains a little more from his eyes. 

A little more blood spills from his stomach, and Tommy gets a little closer to that world, leaving me alone in this one. 

Yet I don't want to accept it. 

He didn't deserve this-

"Do you think it's anything like the old world?"

"I think it's happier there," I conclude, hoping that it truly is. Hoping that there's something better waiting on the other side of this hellhole. Where Wilbur and Phil await us.

"I miss them." Tommy recoils further, leaning against my side nervously. The sudden movement only makes things worse, and he cries out in pain as the glass digs further into his stomach. Bloody fragments lay strewn across the broken floorboards of this room, a reminder of what happened here merely minutes ago.

"So do I," I sigh, wrapping an arm protectively around Tommy as he shifts into a more comfortable position. Even beside me, he wouldn't stop shaking. I could hear his breath hitching, growing shallower and shallower by the minute. 

I reach for a small yellow figure that lay beside us, something that Tommy loved. He'd hug it and play with it for hours. It had small wings and a boxy figure. 

"Someone wants to say hi to you Tommy" I tell him, tapping lightly on his shoulders. When he laid his eyes on the plushie in my hands, he smiled as brightly as if it was the greatest thing he had ever seen. In his eyes was the reflection of stars, and he reached for the plushie with his arms. 

"Tubbee!" He squeals, hugging the bee plushie close to his chest. Then he closes his eyes again. "Maybe they've become new stars out there, forming a new constellation." 

I smiled. "The friendship constellation?" 

"That sounds nice." Tommy gazes out of the shattered window dreamily, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "One day, I'll be with them forever. With my best friends, Wilbur and Phil."

~~~

Wilbur and Phil-

I shove the thought aside, of the two names that Tommy gave me in his final breaths. The names of our companions slaughtered barely minutes before. 

I was too late to reach them, too late to save them. If I'd have been there, not left their side like they'd warned me not to, they'd still be here. All three of them, alongside me.

Yet here I am now, walking alone.

My thoughts are dragged back to Tommy as I walk through the forest, admiring the pastel-coloured sky as the sun begins to set. Behind the thousands of trees, some so tall I could've sworn they scraped the clouds. 

A particular tree catches my eye, the canopy slightly denser than all the others. I can just about make out the framework of a wooden structure nestled between the branches, a camp of some sort. 

Which would be perfect to spend the night in, considering how far I still am from the city. It could even have some supplies in it.

As I approach the tree I notice the rotting wood of the structure: tiny footholds jut out from the trunk, made for someone quite a bit smaller than me. Judging by the poor condition of the camp, it must be uninhabited. 

Whoever owned it beforehand had to be long gone, the place looking like it had been abandoned for at least a few months. Any supplies there may be the same, but anything still better than nothing at all. With food and medical supplies low, I'm becoming desperate.

I climb the tree with some difficulty, the footholds proving little help to someone my size. It doesn't take me too long to reach the top though, and I bring my head through the canopy to assess if the structure is stable enough still to support my weight. 

Carefully I lower myself onto the rotting floor, wooden planks groaning slightly as I adjust myself into a standing position before the entrance to the treehouse. With every step I take the floor weakens, barely enough to be noticeable, but still enough to put me on edge.

That is, until one of the boards beneath me snaps.

"Karl?" A voice calls from inside with some uncertainty. Young: not a child, but young. "Karl?" The voice calls again expectantly. I back away quickly, snapping a few more boards as I edge back towards the exit. 

There's someone here.

"What is it Toby?" Another voice, older, asks from further away. Slowly I watch as the figure of a boy emerges from the very top of the tree, thankfully on the opposite side. He looks to be about my age, with brown eyes darker than my own, yet lighter hair, similar in colour. 

So there's two people here.

And they're expecting a third.

"I heard something!" The younger voice responds. "I think it's Karl, it has to be!" Loud footsteps suddenly echo in my direction, the owner of them emerging from the doorway nearest to me. He pushes a cloud of dark brown hair out of his dark blue eyes as they scan the area, searching for his friend. This boy must be the younger I heard earlier, looking about the same age as Tommy.

"Toby don't go out there!" The older boy climbs across the roof of the structure with ease, dropping to the floorboards in front of the younger. He throws his arms out wide to shield the smaller boy, clutching a dagger tightly in one hand. 

"Who's here?" the older snarls, scanning the area. "Show yourself!" His eyes finally fall to me, and I reach for the sword strapped at my waist.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks quietly, backing up slightly as I climb back onto the wooden platform. He grips the dagger in both hands, trembling white knuckles evident of his fear. He's inexperienced, what little confidence he pretended to have a few seconds ago an obvious lie.

I manage to stand, my legs weak from the untreated injuries I've accumulated over the past few weeks. Suffocating my pain, I manage to take another cautious step. 

Climbing the tree in my condition was an awful idea, further straining my injuries, but I was left with no other choice. The older boy's eyes widen in alarm as he takes in the sight of my bloody clothes, pushing the younger boy, Toby, further inside behind him.

"Fundy, he's hurt!" Toby yells, trying to push past the older to reach me. The innocence of that boy hurts, reminding me of how small he looks in comparison to Fundy and I. Wanting to help someone like me, a stranger, despite how dangerous this world is. He's too young to have a hunter yet thankfully. That attitude would get him killed.

"Toby we can't help him!" Fundy grabs Toby under his arms, trying to restrain the struggling boy. "What if he's dangerous? He could be here to hurt us."

"That didn't stop you helping George!" Toby protests, pulling free of Fundy's grip. The older yells his name in fear as Toby runs towards me, helping lower me to the floor. He kneels in front of me, a bright smile plastered across his face.

It'd be so easy to kill him. Right now, right in front of his friend who tried to save him. I could kill him before Fundy reaches us, plunge the sword Toby seems to have forgotten is still in my hand straight through his chest.

He could die just like Wilbur did, just like Phil did too.

I don't know what stops me. Maybe it's knowing my friends met that end, or maybe it's how badly this boy resembles Tommy. The dagger shakes in my hand, edging towards his chest. Then stopping, dropping to the floor beside me as the teenager takes my hands in his. His dark blue eyes scan my split knuckles, turning over my bleeding palms in his.

"You need help." Toby tells me, sighing sadly at the blood seeping from my face. "Can we help him?" He turns to Fundy, whose eyes won't leave the dagger lying beside me. I watch him edge towards it, grabbing and strapping my only weapon tightly to his belt. He sighs deeply, shaking his head in mock disappointment at Toby's childish pleading. "Fine," he states bluntly.

"Yay!" Toby squeals, grinning at me. He runs away briefly to hug Fundy, who sighs again in irritation. "Whatever," he groans, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "At least tell us your name."

For a second I hesitate, unsure of what to tell them. Using my name doesn't seem wise, even if I'm almost certain these two boys mean me no harm. So I try to think of something, anything else. 

My first thought is Tommy, and a certain name he used to call me due to my repetitive weapon of choice whenever I tried to teach him combat. That same blade, my favourite one.

The same one that now hangs from Fundy's belt. 

"You can call me Blade." 

Toby gasps in awe, a bright glow in his wide eyes. "You sound like an assassin! Like those ones in books!" At the confused look on my face, he elaborates. "Not a real assassin, of course."

"No, definitely not." I look to Fundy, who simply rolls his eyes. He looks amused to see Toby smile, trying to hide a warm smile through a cold smirk. 

"Alright then, Blade. Nice to meet you." Fundy extends his hand in greeting. His eyes narrow observantly, scanning for any more weapons I could have to hand. 

"Come on then!" I'm suddenly pulled to my feet, dragged back towards the door to the treehouse by the excitable teen. "I think you'll like it here," he smiles. 

"Let me show you around!"


	11. Bitter Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that this chapter and last chapter are in the past tense!!

-Techno's POV-

I let Toby quite literally drag me around the treehouse, which turned out to be a lot bigger than I'd anticipated originally. Most of it hidden to the rest of the world, only an occasional glimpse of the wooden structure visible at the right angle.

Toby spends most of his tour showing me the paths between their various lookout posts, dotted around the general vicinity to 'watch for any oncoming threats'. 

I debate adding a sarcastic comment that this method didn't seem to work in their favour when I was approaching the tree merely minutes ago, but decide to hold it in. These people trusted me enough to give me sanctuary, which was probably not in their best interests.

Especially when the stranger introduces themselves as Blade.

The name may seem threatening, one of an assassin with the intent of fear when heard muttered among alleyways. Yet the nickname seems almost endearing to me, one used to remind me of the friend I lost.

Toby reminds me of him too.

Its almost ridiculous, how I stumbled into a boy so like the one I lost. Not only similar in age, but in the way they act too. In the way both teens were so willing to let people in, almost resulting in their demise. 

Some would call it naivety, others kindness. In this world, the two seem to merge into one, with a fine line through them that most can't see anymore.

"And that's the end of the tour!" Toby announces, and I zone back in to find myself faced with the teenager, face adorned with a contagious smile. "Any questions for your tour guide?" he asks, giggling at his own remark.

"Don't think so," I deadpan, aware of the other boy following us around. Fundy's eyes narrow, watching from afar with folded arms. When our eyes meet he relaxes, attempting to act casual by picking at his nails until he remembers he's wearing gloves. 

I watch him mutter a curse under his breath, barely managing to stifle my own laugh at his stupidity.

Toby looks between the two of us nervously, awkwardly giggling to drown out the silence. He gives Fundy thumbs up before grabbing my wrist again, dragging me back into the main area. "Don't mind Fundy, he's just a bit nervous around new people."

I cast my eyes back in the direction of the older boy, who has since disappeared. "He was the same when Karl first arrived," Toby continues, mentioning that name again. The name of the person they believed me to be at first. 

"Unsure. He wasn't willing to let Karl stay either, but I convinced him. And they've become great friends since!" The teen's eyes brighten, dark blue becoming more vivid.

"Fundy is harmless, I swear. He wouldn't hurt anyone unless he really had to."

"I'll bear that in mind," I mutter, deciding to change the topic. "You've mentioned this Karl guy a few times now. Where is he?" Toby narrows his eyes in thought, sitting in the middle of the almost empty room. 

In the corner of it lays a small collection of what must be their only resources. Enough for a week or two, but no longer. "He'll be back soon," Toby shrugs by means of an answer, and I decide that's good enough.

"What about you?" The younger boy asks in wonder, squinting at me as if in suspicion. "You can't have been travelling by yourself the whole time."

"Where are your friends?"

The question stings. They should be with me still. Would've been, had I been there when they were attacked.

I could've saved them. If I'd have gotten there a little sooner, been a little faster, I could've.

If only I was strong enough.

"Dead," I mutter, watching as the younger boy's eyes widen in horror. "All three of my friends were killed two weeks ago." Toby mouths something in shock, words failing him. 

They all spill out at once suddenly, in a mess of gasps and terror. "How? When... who..." He trails off. "Hunters? Did their hunters kill them?"

"Yes," I answer quietly, staring dully at the broken floorboards beneath me. "Two of them. Their hunters came together." Footsteps echo from nearby, and I notice the presence of a third person in the room. Fundy stands in the doorway, arms still folded as he leans idly against the wooden frame. "The third was just caught in the crossfire."

My gaze drifts back to the younger boy, kneeling before me with nothing but pity in his eyes. "You remind me of him, the third one," I tell Toby. He nods understandingly, offering a weak smile. 

"Tell me about him. Please." His eyes suddenly widen. "But only if you want to!" he quickly adds.

I try to mimic his sweet smile, yet find my own to be bitter. "His name was Tommy. He was the same age as you, had blue eyes too. But brighter, sort of like the sky."

"He was a-" Words fail the teenager. "He wasn't old enough to have a hunter, was he?" I shake my head, watching the cogs turn in his head. His eyes suddenly seem so much colder, blue like ice yet filled with fire as his hands ball into fists.

"You mean they killed him for no reason?!" Toby yells furiously. Teeth gritted, choking back venomous words against the murder of a boy he never even met. 

"That's not right! You shouldn't kill anyone you don't have to!" Fundy shakes his head slowly, an ounce of pity ebbing from his tough demeanour. "Bastards," he mutters under his breath.

Toby continues to yell in disgust. "Especially not a teenager! He shouldn't have to worry about being hunted yet, he's too young! He didn't fight back did he?" I shake my head again, the movement slow and bitter.

As suddenly as the anger started it stops, the teen resorting to silence. He hugs his knees tightly to his chest, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry about Tommy," he chokes out. "And about the other two, I bet they didn't deserve to die either."

Slowly, Toby's spluttering turns into sobs. Fundy steps in from the doorway with a deep sigh, wrapping an arm around the younger boy. "I think you'd have liked Tommy," I mutter more to myself than Toby. "You're similar to him, act like he would quite a lot."

"Maybe we'd have been friends," Toby smiles sadly. "I'd like to have met Tommy. You think we'd have got along?"

"Yeah, I think you would've."

A few moments of silence pass, Toby drying his eyes with his sleeves. He wears a dark green shirt, the first two buttons undone with the collar crumpled in a dishevelled manner. 

"He's in a better place now," the teen mumbles to the floor. "I'm sure it's happier in heaven than it is here in this world."

"Yeah," I mutter bitterly. "It must be."

I promised him it would be. 

‘Tommy we're going to be fine, everything will be okay.’


	12. Twisted Notions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno is the ??? PoV you’ve been reading. I think most of you guessed that. He was the PoV of chapters 1,10 and 11.

-Techno's POV- 

I spend a while telling Toby stories about my past friends, recalling amusing events in hopes of making them a fonder memory. Thinking of them is still bittersweet, especially when something comes up to only make me miss them more.

My time spent alone made me think more about the structure of this cruel world, specifically about why people are given a second chance because of someone they often haven't even met beforehand. 

Soulmates are linked from a young age, before the two people meet. The world decides their fate for them, deeming who is 'meant to be together'.

But how?

It's a strange concept. One that could stop people from being with someone else, from believing they could love someone unless they were their soulmate. 

Maybe the world did this to be kind and stop people from heartbreak. You're supposed to fall in love with the person you're linked to - that's how it was meant to be. That's what we were told.

This may not be the end after all.

Wilbur and Phil could have a chance to be saved. By their soulmates, who neither of them got to meet. If their soulmate kills for them, and if they haven't killed their target for their own safety first.

Then the vicious cycle continues. Two more people die, to pay the price of two other's revivals. Two more bands go black, as two return to colour. To maintain balance, I suppose, and keep the system going. That's just how this world works, I don't know what'd happen if it didn't.

So then how...

I rummage through my bag, searching for an item I'd almost forgot I was carrying. Through my limited supplies and few possessions, I've managed to hold onto, as well as a few of my friend's. 

Near the base of the bag is one of Tommy's, which I couldn't bring myself to leave behind. A bee plushie, which he named Tubbee, and held in his final breaths. 

I can't help but smile at the toy I'd thought so ridiculous for a sixteen year old to love so fondly, taking care not to damage it as I take off the item I was looking for, which happens to still be wrapped around it's body where I left it.

Tommy's soulmate band.

I'd known when Tommy died it'd be the worst of them all. He has no chance of revival, having died too young for his soulmate to be assigned a target in the hopes of saving him. It made saying goodbye so much harder, knowing it'd be the last time I'd ever see him.

At least I got to say goodbye to him, even if I didn't deserve to.

Thoughts like that have haunted me since. Reminding me that if I hadn't have left them alone, had just listened to Wilbur, this probably wouldn't have happened. I can fight, was the only one of our group that could.

Maybe it would've stopped them, and I could've saved my friends. Maybe then my they'd still be here by my side now. Maybe then Tommy and Toby could've met, become the friends both so desperately need.

I could tell Tommy was lonely. Even though he had me, and Wilbur, and Phil. He lacked someone to understand him, someone his age to be a teen with again. It hurt trying to watch him act like us, try to face things that even adults didn't deserve to. Tommy could've been the friend that Toby needed. Probably would've – they're so similar they'd have got along perfectly.

I can tell Toby is lonely. He has Fundy, and Karl, but no friends his age. Nobody to stay with while the two adults are out on errands they claim to be too dangerous for a teenager to help with, leaving him for hours a day alone. He'd have been such a good friend to the sixteen-year-old I knew.

If only I'd have listened.

It hurts more to see Toby now, watch the same cycle take its toll on him. Even only over the span of one day, there's evidence he's turning. I watched it take Tommy, turn him from someone so sweet and friendly into the broken and fearful boy I came to know instead. 

That same cycle is taking Toby, and I'm forced to watch it consume him too. I see Tommy in him. In the way he acts, and the same way in which he's slowly losing to the fate of this world.

Maybe I could've saved him from that fate, saved him from the breakdown I thought I was forced to watch. Maybe it was avoidable after all, and I was just too blind to see how.

"Is that a bee?"

There's shuffling from the far end of the room, the sound of someone turning over in their sleeping bag. A flashlight is suddenly shone in my direction, and I'm met with a pair of wonderous eyes. Specks of white reflect from the light in those dark blue eyes, following the beacon of light to where the plush lays in my hands.

"It is a bee!" Toby smiles, making his way towards me to better inspect the object. He sits beside me, almost blinding us both as he tries to focus the torchlight. His eyes won't leave the toy in my hands, and I hesitantly hand it to him.

"A bee!" he squeals again in joy. "Oh my god I love bees, I'm sorry!" Immediately he hands the plush back to me, as if scared he's doing something wrong. "It's fine, you can hold it," I tell him, gently pushing it back into his hands. "Just be careful with it, it belonged to one of my friends."

"Wait... did it belong to Tommy..?" he asks slowly, and I nod. My heart softens a little as Toby handles the bee with more caution upon knowing of its past owner, making sure not to damage it in his excitement. 

"What's its name?" Toby asks, lightly stroking the bee with his thumb as he cups it gently in his palms. "Tommy named it Tubbee a long time ago. I'm still not sure why," I shrug.

"That's a cool name!" Toby taps the bee on the head, mouthing a 'hi Tubbee' to it before turning to face me. "Your name is pretty cool as well," he smiles sleepily. 

There are dark circles under his eyes, suggesting he hasn't slept much since he told me he was going to a few hours ago. Most likely worried about Karl, who Fundy left to find shortly beforehand.

"Which reminds me, actually," he continues. "Why exactly did you name yourself Blade?"  
"Also Tommy," I answer quietly. "He used to call me 'The Blade', for some reason." Toby thankfully seems to deem that a sufficient answer, deciding not to pry any further.

"What's that?" His eyes drop to my hands, where Tommy's band still lays. Snapped in one place, revealing a pure black centre to an otherwise pure white band.

Why is it white?

"It's Tommy's soulmate band," I answer truthfully, seeing no reason to lie about it. "When he died, it broke and turned white. I'm not sure why..." 

The band has confused me a lot, and consequently been the subject of my thought for a while now. Adults who die and can't be revived don't leave behind their bands. Even those who remove their band don't leave it behind.

So why did Tommy?

"Wait!" Toby suddenly yells. "I've heard of this happening before! Apparently there was this kid back in school who died young, and their band was left behind too! It was white too, with a black centre! This must be what happens when people who are too young to be revived die!" 

"Back in school?" I question, shooting Toby a confused stare. He looks at me as if I'm crazy, shrugging his shoulders casually. "Yeah, I remember it happening a few years ago."

"Right..."

So it isn't just Tommy, it happens to everyone that didn't get a chance to reach adulthood.

"But why?" I accidentally ask aloud, earning a confused shrug from Toby. "I don't know, maybe that's just how it works." He takes the band from my hands, pressing the band back together. It fuses almost like a bracelet, as if held together by magnets.

"Can you wear it?" he suggests, and I decide there's most likely no harm in trying. Carefully I take the band back, connecting it around my wrist. For a few seconds there's nothing, and I debate taking it off.

Then it all happens at once.

As if sparked to life, the band begins to emit a dull glow. A sharp, stinging pain shoots up my arm, and I hiss in pain. The glow burns brighter, white light turning grey as a shape begins to form. Of a figure I recognise almost instantly, one I never thought I'd see again.

Tommy.


	13. Undone Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last section of Techno, then back to dnf.

-Techno's POV-

Tommy stands before me. 

His appearance is greyscale, yet identical to when I last saw him, torn clothes still covered in splatters of blood. A deep scar is etched through his stomach, carving out a path where the internal injury I couldn't stop bled. I can only see parts of it through the tears in his shirt, but it seems to stem from his chest and end near his waist.

Tommy's milky eyes seem to light up suddenly, and he drops to his feet to hug me. Yet upon wrapping his arms around me, they fall through. He reaches a hand towards me, watching in horror as it drifts straight through me. 

I feel nothing at all his touch, only a constant stinging in my wrist that trails up the length of my arm. As if it's telling me to take the band off, rejecting it as one other than my own.

Is this a loophole in the system?

"Blade your eye..." I turn to Toby, who's staring at me with his mouth agape. "Can't you see Tommy?" I ask, and he shakes his head, looking around for the ghostly figure he can't seem to see. "No..." he answers slowly.

"But why is your eye a different colour?"

"It is?" I decide to focus on Tommy, casting Toby's question aside. The ghostly figure seems to be yelling, yet no words spill from his mouth. "What are you saying?" I whisper, still in awe of the person somehow knelt before me. Tommy suddenly stops, a hand drifting to his throat. He tries to tell me something again, and no words come. That's when it clicks.

Tommy can't speak.

Whatever form he's in must be preventing him from doing so. He's not a devotion: can't interact with anything or even talk. I notice him tracing out letters with his finger, repeating the same three words repeatedly.

'I can't talk.'

"Yet you can hear and see," I state, and Tommy nods in response. He tries his hardest to smile, offering a small, sad wave as he traces out 'hello' with the other hand. My eyes can't seem to meet Tommy's, a sense of guilt seeping through me. It twists my stomach in knots still, making me sick still after all these weeks. I should be happy to see him, yet I can't even look him in the eyes.

In a sudden state of disgust, I tear the band from my wrist, watching Tommy flicker and fade almost instantly. The band continues to glow for a few seconds after from where it lays on the splintered floor before the spark is snuffed out.

"What happened?" Toby asks in fear, picking up the band cautiously. I stare at the floor in embarrassment, finding it ridiculous I can't face my own friend. Someone I've spoken so highly of to Toby' remember so fondly.

It just seems wrong. To have the ability to talk to him after all these weeks, like he's still here. He should still be here; I didn't act fast enough to save him. Wasn't there quick enough, didn't help quick enough, ignored my friends wishes and didn't listen to them enough.

"I can't talk to Tommy," I mumble more to the floor than Toby, pushing away the band he tries to hand back to me. "Not after all this time, not after what I saw. Tommy deserves better than me, and more than dealing with my problems."

Slowly I turn to Toby, knowing what I should do. "I live a dangerous life, Toby. I can't look after Tommy, or his band, and I can't give him the attention he deserves." Toby nods, clutching the bee plush tightly in one hand and Tommy's band in the other.

"But Tommy also doesn't deserve to be ignored!" he protests. His eyes drift to the band in his hand, and he clicks it together again uncertainly. I take the object from him unclasping it and turning it over a few times. "Seems that only the person wearing his band is able to see Tommy," I observe from Toby's reaction earlier. "And I know who that person should be."

Toby's eyes widen as I take his arm in my hand, wrapping the band around his wrist. I hold the two ends apart, smiling sweetly at the teen I still have a chance to save. 

"You should be that person," I tell him. 

"I said that you and Tommy would've been good friends, and I think you two would get along really well. It would benefit you both greatly to have someone your age around, even if communication is tough." 

I take another look at Toby, at the bee clutched protectively to his chest and the smile adorning his features in the torchlight. "But only if you want to," I remind him.

My answer is accompanied by a bright smile as Toby wraps his hands over mine, sealing the band around his wrist.

~~~

\- Switching to Tommy POV briefly...-

"Tommy? Can you hear me?"

The old-world flashes back into view once more, as I return to see someone else with my band around their wrist. A teenage boy, shorter than I was in height yet similar in age. Greyscale makes identifying details hard, but I notice his eyes are darker than mine were.

Or eye, rather, as I notice one identical to my own staring back at me. The other a darker blue, the only part of him in colour. Just like Techno's eyes were: one the same as mine used to be, and one normal to them. Must be a side effect of the band.

"Oh! It worked!" The boy looks between the band and I in awe, a bright smile illuminating his features against the darkness. "Hi Tommy! I'm Toby!"

I trace out a 'hi Toby' to the friendly boy, who waves back with another grin. "We need to learn sign language, or I need to learn how to lipread..." His eyes light up suddenly. "Or maybe we can invent our own language! We can make up hand signals so that only we can understand them!"

Despite no noise uttering from my mouth I giggle, deciding I didn't seem to mind this boy after all. 'Sounds fun', I trace back. 'Can't let the old guys in on our conversations - we can trash talk them all we want!' Toby giggles at my response, shaking his head in mock disappointment. 

"Anyway," he continues. "Blade has told me so much about you! He thinks we'll be good friends."

'You mean Techno?' I trace out. 

"He goes by Blade now, because of you," Toby shrugs in response. I shrug, conjoining the nicknames to form 'Technoblade' instead.

"I like that!" Toby nods in agreement. "You think up really cool names! I wish I had a cool nickname like Technoblade does." He stops, wincing slightly and rubbing his wrist beside where the band is strapped around it. I noticed the same issue with Technoblade earlier, the band seems to reject people who aren't my soulmate wearing it by stinging their wrist occasionally.

He's hurting himself to talk to me. 

Why? 

For a second I feel guilty, confuses as to why Toby would willingly go through that to talk to me. 

Techno threw the band off within minutes. 

"Could you give me a cool name?" Toby asks quietly, and I can't help but smile. Techno seems to know what he's doing for once; I think we will get along.

I look around the room for inspiration, finding it hard without the ability to see in colour. My eyes drift back to Toby, noticing the toy he holds to his chest. 

Tubbee, my bee plushie. 

A nickname comes to me almost instantly, and I deem it fitting for him before tracing it out.

'How about I call you Tubbo?'


	14. Unpaid Dues

-Clay's POV-

From the minute George's eyes spot that bee plushie, I know something is wrong. Recognition seems to strike him as he picks it up, watching dried blood flake away as he turns the toy over in his hands. 

"I..." he stops, squinting at the object. "I... know who this belongs to. Or belonged to, I guess," he corrects, signalling to the blood splattered over the walls.

"There were these people I met once," he continues. "Three of them, that used to live here. I only stumbled across them on accident, after getting injured in the forest once." 

George brushes the bee off with his sleeve, trying to remove as much blood as possible. "One of them loved bees, I'm almost certain it has to be his if it's here."

My boyfriend clutches the plush tightly, chewing on his lip furiously in an attempt to bite back tears. His eyes can't seem to focus, darting fearfully between the blood-streaked walls. 

I waste no time in taking the frightened boy's hand, pulling him closer and wrapping my arms around him tightly. He pulls his glasses over his eyes in embarrassment, failing to hide the tears already spilling down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry," I mumble quietly, gently brushing away a few droplets before hugging him tighter to my chest.

I spot Nick pacing the room behind George, searching for any other remnants. "There was this guy I knew once that said he had a friend who loved bees," he shrugs. "An elite assassin, that is. Sort of an ex-assassin now. I think he still lives in the area though. His name is-"

"Fundy?" George interjects, pulling away from me when Nick answers with a nod. "He's the guy who used to live here. Wouldn't surprise me if he's an assassin now, he did seem like that sort of person."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snort. "Do us ex-assassins give off some hostile warning?" George cringes slightly, as if forgetting my past occupation. Even if it was only for a few weeks, I was an assassin once too. "Yeah, you do. Any elite assassins are weird, ex-assassin or not." I pretend to look insulted, deciding its worth it for the small smile that tugs at George's lips.

"So anyway," Nick interrupts loudly. "Yeah, I'm talking about Fundy. Pretty sure he still lives in Central City and looks after this teenage boy or something."

"Toby?"

"Might be. I think he goes by Tubbo or something now. Some weird nickname a friend of his made up, apparently."

"You mean he's still alive?!" George shrieks, grabbing Nick by the shoulders. "So, you stood here and watched me cry over this boy, thinking he was dead, when you knew damn well he wasn't?!" He shakes the assassin's shoulder with every word he spits through gritted teeth.

"Woah!" Nick pulls away with ease, putting some distance between him and George. "I didn't know it was definitely him! It was just a suggestion!"

While the two argue, I decide to look around the room. Something definitely happened here, the place covered in jagged splinters from rotting wood. It's clear that someone was badly injured at least, most likely died.

The blood is denser on the west wall, which is strange when the main entrance is on the south side, with the only other entrance on the east. Yet the place in which the person who died, did, is nowhere near any of the exits.

It looks like whoever was killed was caught off-guard, which would most likely be the work of an assassin. But in a room this covered, the kill looks to be committed by someone inexperienced. Definitely not the work of an assassin, and the person who died doesn't appear to have fought back. Not the work of an elite assassin, that's for sure.

So who made this kill?

And if Tubbo didn't die here, who did?

"Are you two finished?" I ask to the room irritably, waiting for the yelling to die down. "Thanks," I mutter sarcastically. "Nick how confident are you that Fundy and Tubbo are still alive?" 

The elite assassin shrugs, shooting a not-so subtle glare in George's direction. "Fairly sure. Haven't seen Fundy in a week or two, but this blood looks to be a lot older than that. And I'm sure he'd have said something if Tubbo had died."

"So who did die here?" I ask aloud, my answer a deathly quiet room. Silence hangs thick in the air for a few seconds, before George decides to break it. "Sapnap did you ever meet a third boy with these two? There were three of them."

"There was a third guy?"

"Well, that answers that question." I smirk at the confusion on Nick's face, earning a light punch to the shoulder. George has gone quiet again, the seemingly lost and distant glossiness returning to his eyes. 

"I know who died here then," he mumbles, more to himself than us. His gaze drops to the plush, tracing over the stripes with his thumb. "Karl. He was inseparable from those two, he wouldn't have left them if they'd have relocated."

"They relocated almost a year ago, shortly after the elite assassins formed," Nick cuts in. "That's what I've heard, at least, I was still living with Dream at that time." I cringe at the use of my nickname, hating how it sounds from my best friend's lips.

"Actually, I remember them." Vague memories of a brown-haired boy come to me, accompanied with those of a young teenager. There was something off about him, how he always seemed to rub his wrist like it was aching. 

"I think Fundy was still an assassin back then, seemed to get along with Techno really well," I supply. "Tubbo is that boy with the different-coloured eyes, right? Was always really quiet and nervous."

"Yes," Nick nods. "That weird kid. The one that always stuck with Fundy. Makes sense as to why now."

"Different-coloured eyes?" George questions unsurely. "His eyes were the same colour when I met him. Dark blue, I think. Are you sure you're thinking of Toby?"

Nick shoots me a nervous look, and I can tell what he's thinking. The question lingers in his eyes, silently pleading I'll ask instead.  
"George... no offence..." I mumble, rubbing my neck awkwardly as I fail to keep eye contact. "But you are colourblind. Tubbo's eyes are definitely two different colours, but they're two shades of blue. Maybe you just couldn't tell."

To my relief, George seems to understand, tipping my chin slightly so that I face him. Our height difference means I'm still looking down at him, and I notice the gentle way in which his eyelashes flutter and cheeks redden as he blushes over how far he has to look up to meet my eyes.

"Do not even think about it," Nick grumbles from behind. "Save your sappy shit for later, I don't wanna see it."

"Okay Sappynappy," George huffs, stepping away from me. He pushes his glasses back over his eyes, and I blush slightly, knowing he must've realised I was admiring them. "So where did you say these two were now?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

"Probably the same place. It's one of the buildings just a little further west of the marketplace." Nick stops for a second, looking between George and the plushie. "Wait, you aren't seriously considering going there to return that stupid bee, are you?"

"They helped me when I desperately needed it, it's the least I can do-"

"You're fucking crazy!" Nick yells. "That building is owned by Techno, and you're a wanted person, specifically wanted by him! You won't get within ten feet of it!"

"No..." George dwells quietly, pacing around the room. He holds the bee tightly to his chest, eyes refusing to leave the plush as he talks. "You're right, I wouldn't. There's no way I'd get anywhere near it, and Clay wouldn't either-" Suddenly he stops, turning to face Nick with a daring smile.

"But you would."

The assassin rolls his eyes, glaring at George in disbelief. "You're ridiculous. So you want me to bring this little toy to Tubbo?"

"No," George corrects. "I want you to bring Tubbo to us. I'd like to find out what happened here, and if there's any way we could get Karl back. He was a good person, and I think Tubbo probably feels pretty lost without him."

"Shouldn't let him anywhere near where we're staying," I cut in. "You said they get along well with Techno, that wont end well for us. Would have to meet them somewhere they'd trust, most likely both Tubbo and Fundy."

"That back room in the market is vacant tomorrow afternoon," Nick suggests with a shrug. "Techno isn't on that side of the city at that time either, it's probably our best bet. People wouldn't question an elite assassin and ex one meeting in the room that's known to be used by their group. Could get you two in there pretty easily too, as long as we get you some different clothes."

"Is that a yes, then?" George asks smugly, already knowing he's won. "Guess so. But don't blame me if you're murdered by Fundy on the spot. You know damn well you wouldn't be the one I'd save, given the choice."

"I saved your life from Illumina you ungrateful-"

"That's delightful, both of you" I mutter, smirking as the smug grin quickly leaves George's face. "Well it's getting late, and I'd rather not spend the night in a bloody room, so we should probably head elsewhere."

Nick is first to run to the entrance, climbing back down the tree so quickly I'm worried he may fall. "Thank god!" he yells from halfway down. "I can't stay in the same room as George any longer."

I try to follow after Nick, until a tug on my sleeve pulls me away. I'm faced with George, cheeks dusted with a pink blush as he pushes his glasses back up onto his forehead. 

My eyes drift to list lips as if by habit, and almost instantly I'm pulled into a kiss. He clumsily presses those rosy lips to mine, still grasping my sleeve in a silent plea to stay here with him a little longer. I return the gesture, gently gripping his hips to steady him as he wobbles on tiptoes to reach my lips.

"Sapnap said he didn't want to see it," George giggles by means of explanation when we pull apart. "So now he doesn't have to."

"Are you two finished yet?" An angry yell suddenly shouts from the bottom of the tree. "I know what you're doing, you can snog your boyfriend another time."

"Shut up Sapnap!"


	15. Fight Back

-George's POV-

"So, where do we go from here?"

My gaze drifts to Clay, whose eyes are focused on the darkening sky. The light in his eyes reflected the luminous stars. "Hmm?" the blonde hums in response, turning to face me. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, cringing at the way the rain has matted it.

Sapnap rolls his eyes, pushing his hair behind his bandana and securing the fabric more tightly. I glared at the assassin, shaking my head at the sight of the smirk that tugs at his lips. He skips ahead a little, sticking his tongue out and giving Clay and me some space.

"Did you say something George?" Clay asks again, and I turn my attention back to him. "Oh, um," I trip over my words, debating if I really should say what's on my mind. "I wondered what happens now. Now that you're back, I mean." My stomach knots uncomfortably when I'm left without an answer.

"He has a point," Sapnap answers after a few silent seconds. "You two can barely get into the city, and I'm not sure how much disguises will help with that. Won't be long until Techno catches on to me either, then we're all wanted."

"I don't see your point here," Clay interjects. "If you're suggesting we leave the city, that's near impossible. You can't just leave the elite assassins, I learned that the hard way. 

Techno has been after me ever since then, and he'd be the same with you. There's no way you'd be able to get your soulmate back with Techno after you-"

"George managed it just fine-"

"You don't have a devotion like he did!"

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder," Sapnap spits bitterly. His eyes begin to glisten, and not with stars as Clay's did. "This is stupid, anyway. Why would I risk your lives for someone I never even had the chance to meet? What if they don't like me? They've been dead for months, and I've done nothing about it."

"This isn't about us," I remind him. "This is about you, and your soulmate. I too thought the system was ridiculous and wondered why I should kill someone innocent because the world told me to." 

The rain begins to pour harder, soaking us to the skin with a biting chill. Sapnap tugs at the hood of his coat, embroidered with the symbol of the assassins.

"Look, Sapnap. You spend your time helping people get their soulmates back. You helped me get mine back, and I know I wouldn't have managed it without you." Clay offers his best friend a bright smile to emphasize my point, pulling him into a side hug he seems reluctant to accept.

"George is right," he tells the assassin. "I can't imagine how it feels to see happy soulmates every day, yet not have your own." Sapnap brushes Clay's arm away, tugging his hood back over his head to hide his eyes from view. 

"That's just my job," he mutters bitterly. The wobble in his voice is laced with hurt, exposing the side of him that aches for his soulmate. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to kill my target anyway."

For a few seconds, I forget that Sapnap has his target profile, and has the entire time. It's how he knew Clay was dead. "It's one of Illumina's assassins," he elaborates. I wouldn't get anywhere near them, especially not when their leader is my hunter." 

A sniffle escapes Nick, which he tries to hide by kicking at the dirt in hopes it conceals the noise. I notice the light on his face, reflecting in droplets I know aren't rain.

"Makes me feel awful, knowing I can revive them, yet I can't. I hope they know, somehow. What if I'd been dealt a fairer hand, they'd be here with me already." 

Clay stops when the sniffles turn to sobs, hesitantly resting his hand on Sapnap's arm. His fingers smooth the fabric of the jacket, tracing out slow circles. The black-haired boy smiles weakly, lacing his fingers between the ones still resting on his shoulder.

"Thanks," he mutters to Clay, looking away as if in embarrassment. This side of Nick feels so foreign to the assassin side I've come to know as Sapnap, so unlike the person that threatened me in an alleyway all those weeks ago.

At first, I thought it strange, especially seeing how Zak would act around his soulmate. A medic paired with an elite assassin. Society didn't understand them, and nor did I to begin with. Yet as time went on, and I came to know Sapnap more as Nick, I started to notice a different side to the assassins.

Their act is a facade, used to keep others away from the people they care about. Assassins have soulmates too, a vulnerability few are willing to embrace. Including Techno himself, who people claim has a devotion.

Sapnap seems to hate that side of himself. Hate that he has a vulnerability, a weakness that can be used against him. He's seen what happened to Skeppy, how reclusive he's become since the passing of his soulmate. Nick says he's out of it, tried to distance himself from everyone before disappearing completely.

He seems lost.

The look in his eyes suggests as much, the way he clings to his best friend's hand now for comfort. Knowing it's the only person he has still, and how much he sacrificed to keep Clay around. I still can't believe the self-restraint he had, how he managed to walk away when his target was right there. I'm not sure I could've done the same.

I'm not sure anyone could've done the same.

"It's fine." Sapnap pushes his Clay away again, desperately trying to hide the hurt in his eyes. "I had to accept it was like this a long time ago when my first target turned out to be my best friend. The system is just against me."

"Then why not fight back?"

Nick turns to me, furiously wiping away the tears that won't stop falling. "What?"

"Why not fight back?" I repeat. "Why let the system win? It allowed you to get your soulmate back, that's why the system is here in the first place. Why not use it?"

"Because I'll get the few people I have left hurt?" He sighs deeply, checking over his weapons in hopes of a distraction. "Clay doesn't have another life. If he dies, he's gone for good. I couldn't let that happen; it'd destroy both of us." I notice Clay seems to have taken to checking over his weapons too, probably pretending not to listen.

"Look, George. I've come to accept I won't get my soulmate back. Maybe you should accept it too." He turns away, glancing back towards the city. We've stood in the rain by the outskirts for a while now, and all three of us are starting to shiver. 

"I'm going to find this Tubbo kid," Nick suddenly says by means of goodbye. "Wait out here in the south base, I'll come back for you when I find you two some new clothes. My absence won't be very long ."

"You remember where site six is?" he asks Clay. The blonde nods silently gaze seemingly distant. Not quite paying attention. More content on watching the world around as the rain eases up.

"Alright," he shrugs, not quite managing to stifle the uncertainty in his tone. "Head there. I'll meet you two there in a few hours. Please don't do anything stupid." A sigh escapes the assassin's lips as he leaves, mumbling a few words under his breath.

"You two are all I have left."


	16. Back To Basics

-George's POV-

"I hope he knows I'm not letting him give in."

Clay sighs quietly to himself, chewing his lip as he sorts through our remaining resources. The treehouse proved quite unhelpful, only supplying us with information. That a boy I once knew still lives, along with one of the two adults that helped me back then. Their companion seems to have not been so lucky, likely not even making it to the city given what Sapnap could recall.

"Didn't think you would," I smile, combing my fingers through my hair. Droplets of water cling to my already soaked fingers, my whole body drenched from the downpour. "Nick deserves his soulmate," Clay mumbles back. "More than most people do. After everything he's been through, something has to go right for him."

Silence drags out between us, and I decide to spend some time sorting through my own bag. I'm disappointed to discover I have even less than Clay does to help us, finding it mostly full of those blueish flowers he was insistent on giving to Sapnap. 

Carefully, I pull out a few of the flowers, smoothing out the crumpled, frail petals with my thumb. A few glistening drops fall from them, but the flower doesn't tear.

"Guess we should start thinking of another assassination plan," I say, only to make a dent in the silence. Another assassination is the last thing I want to think about, especially because it hasn't yet sunk in that I'm going to assist in the murder of yet another person.

As if killing two wasn't already enough.

It still hurts, to look at my boyfriend and know that some of the scars littering his beautiful face are my fault. That I killed him, for no good reason, and wasted his revival.

That's what stings the most. Knowing that if he dies again, I can't save him.

"Trying to get to one of Illumina's assassins is going to be hard." After realising I zoned out again, I try to pay attention to Clay's words. "From what I know, they have almost as many locations outside the city. Getting anywhere near their sites without being spotted would be difficult, so the chances of us managing to get into the camp itself would be even slimmer."

I nod along as Clay vocalises his thought process, fumbling with the more damaged flowers. Something about being in the forest again, looking at the flowers, makes me feel safer. 

Older memories resurface, of Clay and I waiting out the rain in a hollow tree all those weeks ago. Of him threading flowers into my hair, smoothing out the petals to make them look perfect. A time before I realised the damage I'd done, and how much more I'd have to do in order to reverse it.

"Shame you can't see it, but red suits you."

"Does blue suit me?" I mumble suddenly, not meaning to ask the question aloud. Clay looks to the flowers in my hands, picking out the prettiest ones. A surge of warmth shoots through me from his touch, comforting in the cold. 

Clay seems to notice the sensation, the gentle brush of his fingers against mine lasting for longer than necessary. We both turn away with reddened faces, deciding to shyly enjoy the moment in silence.

"I think it does," Clay responds at last, and it takes me a few seconds to remember I even asked him something in the first place. "Blue is your colour, definitely. It is the reason our bands are turquoise."

The blonde pushes up his sleeve, revealing the band underneath. He holds his wrist beside my own, and I smile at the matching colours. Even if I can't see turquoise very well, it's comforting to see neither band is black. It makes me feel worse for Sapnap, knowing his band has been black for many weeks more, and that it still is now.

"Green and blue, right? Green for you, and blue for me." Clay nods, threading flowers under my glasses to hold them in place. I watch him return to chewing his lip as he arranges the flowers, tucking one he deems spare behind his ear after. "This reminds me of when I first met you," he smiles.

"Before or after I stabbed you?" I joke bitterly, laughing awkwardly as I dwell on how sour the memory is. Clay sighs out a wheeze, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "After, definitely after," he clarifies. "I don't count the incident. That's probably better forgotten when thinking of how we met."

"The amnesia seemed to think the same."

"George!"

We end up laughing at my dark humour, using jokes to bandage the wounds that haven't been able to heal since the memories flooded back. It's still ridiculous to me, how something like that could happen. The chances are so slim, so near impossible that it seems it would be. Slim, but not zero.

"I meant that first night, when we waited out that night in the tree," Clay chokes out when our laughter subsides. "You mean that night when Techno almost stabbed me instead?"

"Stop!" My boyfriend pushes me away from him, knocking some of the flowers out of my hair in the process. "Stop making depressing jokes, sunshine. It doesn't fit your name at all." 

I can't help but smile at the use of that name, how affectionate and perfect it sounds on his lips. The name he began using for me almost instantly, and hasn't stopped using since.

"Why did you call me sunshine again?" I ask, throwing the flowers that now scatter the floor in his direction. He scoffs, holding his hands up to block the petals. "Because as a devotion, there are very few things visible in colour." 

Clay shoots me a glare, mouthing 'don't you dare make a depressing colourblind joke' as he picks watery flower petals out of his clothes. "You looked the prettiest. Bright blue, like the sky. Shone against everything else, like the sun. You were my sunshine, from the very beginning."

"That's so cheesy."

"But you love it though." That knowing glance has a glow behind it, only becoming more patronising when paired with that sarcastic grin of his. "Maybe I do," I admit, rolling my eyes and scoffing in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

"Anyway," Clay laughs. "There's only five things, specifically, that they can see in colour. Well, it was five for me at least," he clarifies with a shrug. "Those five things are: your soulmate, their hunter, their target profile, your soulmate band, and something significant to both of you. For us, that thing seemed to be flowers."

"Probably because of my colourblindness," I shrug back, twirling the remaining, more-damaged flowers in my hands. "The system seems to understand things like that. It's strange, especially how it knows these things about us." A few moments of silence drag out between us, as I think through what this system has taught me over the years.

"Have you ever thought about how strange this world really is? Like how it seems to be able to pair people with their soulmates from birth, despite them not even meeting yet?" Thoughts I've pondered often, especially before meeting Clay. It was questions like these that made me doubt the system and think it ridiculous.

"It's weird, I agree. But I liked the knowledge growing up. Made me feel better in darker times, knowing there was someone out there who was waiting for me, meant for me."

Clay offers me a bright smile as he speaks those last words, leaning in ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. He takes the remaining flowers from my hands, using them to replace the ones he'd previously knocked out of my hair. 

"How about we practice colours again, like we used to?" he suggests suddenly. "Would be cool to see if you've improved since last time."

"We don't have any other flowers, and we can't go outside to get some." I signal to the rain, the sound of it bouncing off of the wooden panels above us enough evidence it's no lighter now than when we arrived here almost an hour ago.

"It's just some rain." Clay shrugs on his coat, standing to get a better look outside. He stands in the doorway to the camp for a few minutes, reaching his hand out to test how heavy the rain is. "It's stopping," he falsely observes. "I could easily go out and get some before it gets heavier again."

"No you couldn't." I pack some supplies back into my bag, having forgotten about them entirely during our conversation. "You wouldn't even get halfway down the tree Clay, it's too slippery-"

The sound of scraping against wood echoes from outside, shortly followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. Immediately I look back over in the direction of the entrance, noticing in horror my boyfriend is no longer stood there. Desperately I search the ground below for any sight of him, expecting the worst from what I heard.

Yet there he stands at the base of the tree, perfectly unharmed. He gives me a thumbs up, flashing a wicked smile before running back in the direction of the flowers we passed by earlier. "Time me!" he yells by means of an explanation.

"Clay!"


	17. Mixed Motives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching into Sapnap PoV for the next few chapters...

-Nick's POV-

Even after all this time, Central City never ceases to make me feel empty. 

Most likely, I should be used to it by now. I've lived here for months, surrounded myself with a deadly pact of people who are allegedly on my side. 

It's been long enough, reached the point where I've got a map of the place permanently burnt into my mind. Every alleyway recorded; any possible paths known so well I could confidently walk the majority of them blind.

The ability to detect and remember details like those are the sorts of things that determine who lives and dies here. In places like these, skills like those can allow you to thrive. They're the sorts of things that either get you signed up as an assassin, or wanted by them.

In Dream's case, it's definitely now the latter. 

At first, though, it was the opposite. Assassins of any group would envy those skills; even elite assassins themselves aren't capable of some of the things he is. He's dangerous, wanted by the leader of the Elite Assassins themselves. 

Even someone as narcissistic as Techno recognises he's a threat, and knows he needs rid of him. Not due to his target, or hunter, but the fact he's capable of overthrowing him.   
Taking his place, or creating the first group worthy of rivalling his own. 

I'm not sure even Clay himself knows what he could do if he had as little to lose as Techno does now. And maybe, if George wasn't around, I would've suggested it. 

Although, there's no way I ever would've convinced Clay to leave the sheltered life we had, unless George was dead. If my soulmate hadn't died, I'm still unsure whether I would've ever left what we had in the forest. It was perfect, me and someone I trusted with my life against the world. 

The few people who bothered us never did more than once, not after fighting Clay. Only Illumina was the exception, and even then, we always won. With minimal injuries too, at first. That was until persistency caused recurring wounds to dig a little deeper, and hurt a little more as time went on. 

Clay definitely would've left what we had at some point, though. A part of me always knew that deep down, this wouldn't last forever. Despite me wanting it to, going so far as to wonder if I even cared about meeting my soulmate anymore. 

But with someone like Clay around, I was constantly reminded of the system's real purpose.

He always had a fixation with finding his soulmate, for as long as I can remember. I knew Clay's soulmate would be lucky. Anyone would be to have him, someone who has wanted to meet their soulmate for so long they'd do almost anything to cross paths with them. 

Not only would they be loved, but they'd be safe with him. Despite George previously being hunted by Techno, and Clay being a devotion, he still kept him safe. And me, as he has done for years.

One day, I want to be that person to someone too. I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to have my soulmate back, I wouldn't let them get hurt. Joined the elite assassins and trained so much to make sure of it, to make sure they'd feel safe with me by their side. That I would be for my soulmate what Zak was for Darryl, and Clay for George.

To this day, I'm still reminded of the person this system paired me with. Daily, by everyone around me, and their matching bands that aren't black. Together. My job is half compiled of spending time tracking down people because others pay large sums of riches for the revival of someone they in some cases, haven't actually met before. 

The other half is one people generally fail to see, yet any better-known assassination group is well-accustomed to. It's the effort taken to withhold the prestigious reputation, keeping those who try to rival you, beneath you. Techno takes great pride in the position he's earnt, the group he's built up over the past few months and the fear he's used them to instil upon this great city,.

Yet even now, the disturbing essence seems to seep from every building, reminding me of his presence. There's been many occasions during my trip to the market that I've questioned why I agreed to this. 

George knew this was dangerous; the chances of him and Dream getting into the city itself were slim, let alone further in. To then meet with an ex-elite assassin, one of Techno's first and most-trusted members.

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to reach the market. I didn't expect most to be dumb enough to mess with an elite assassin in broad daylight anyway, but occasionally there's someone who thinks it smart to start trouble. Cause a scene, and get some credit for standing up to us.

Which ultimately ends in their demise, often at the hands of Techno himself.

Despite how much I've always hated working with a group that's trying to hunt down and kill my best friend, it does give me a comforting amount of protection. Not only in the skills I've learnt during my time in the group, but just the status itself is enough. 

When I first joined, I always wondered why everything the elite assassins owned was branded with a noticeable mark. I thought it typical to assassins to keep their heads down, work in secrecy to get jobs done easier. 

But I soon after learnt that isn't how the elite assassins work. Their power comes from staying in the spotlight, and making their presence known by flaunting it. People are supposed to recognise the mark, and stay away in fear.

It became very clear to me, very quickly, that Techno isn't the sort of person to stay quiet.

Nor are any of the assassins, it seems, as I spot the person I'm looking for very quickly, despite the large crowd. He leans against a wall beside the grand stage, talking to another assassin of our group. I offer both a polite smile, watching the current assassin leave upon realising I came to talk to the ex-one.

"Fundy! Been a while!" I say by means of greeting, extending my hand for the ex-assassin to shake. He does, hesitantly, quick to fold his arms back against his chest after. "Has indeed, Sapnap," he shrugs, surveying the area before continuing conversation. "So, what brings you here?"

"Am I not allowed to talk to a fellow member of my group?" I ask, elbowing his arm jokingly. Fundy only rolls his eyes, taking a deep inhale and letting out an equally deep sigh in irritation. 

"You never go out of your way to talk to me unless it's work-related. Can't say I'd be pleased if it was anything but, but I know what you're like. You have a question, don't you?" 

Despite the tone, a knowing smile spreads across his face due to the look on my own. "Yeah, I have a question," I admit. "Or rather, matters that need discussing, as I believe it would do you some good." 

The ex-assassin looks sceptical, and I debate commenting on it before reminding myself he's the only option I have to find out where Tubbo is. "What sort of matters?" Fundy suddenly asks.

"Matters that are better discussed somewhere that isn't here."

"Alright then." He steps from the wall, checking over his weapons and straightening the colourful lapels of his jacket. I notice that he still owns the sword embellished with the elite assassin's mark, seeming to still use it as his primary blade. 

He no longer wears the group's clothes, but wears enough of the old equipment to still be recognisable as an ex-elite. 

Still enough to keep anyone thinking of picking a fight away from him.

"Let's walk, Sapnap."


	18. Ascendent Ransom

-Nick's POV-

"So, Sapnap..."

Fundy leads us out of a back entrance, heading towards the northern park. "What about these 'matters' makes them confidential enough that we need to keep moving while we discuss them?" He puts air quotes around the word 'matters', as if in sarcasm. 

"It's not the confidentiality of it that means we have to keep moving," I explain. "It's that I need you to take me somewhere. This isn't work related, by the way." Fundy tenses slightly in confusion, slowing his pace. "Where do you need me to take you? Why me?"

"I need you to take me to Toby."

Immediately Fundy stops, taking a few seconds to think before turning to face me with wide eyes. "Who told you about him? Why do you know that name?" Question after question spills from his mouth, confused babbling in nothing but pure shock. 

I knew that Fundy looked after a boy called Tubbo, I think all elite assassins did, but never knew what his name really was. Not until George mentioned Fundy, and I realised it had to be the same person.

"Toby, or Tubbo, I guess." Suddenly confident I have the upper hand; I take on a more sarcastic tone. "Because they're the same person, aren't they? Always wondered what was up with his name, and recently, I found out." 

"Who else do you know about?" he suddenly spits.

"Are you suggesting there's someone else?"

"No, not at all," Fundy stutters. He seems taken aback by the situation; feet still rooted in exactly the same place he stopped minutes ago. "You mean Karl? He's the next person I was going to ask about, actually-"

Suddenly, I'm thrown against the nearest wall. My shoulder slams into concrete, causing for me to reach for my blade by instinct. "Sapnap, what the fuck do you know, and how did you find it out?" Fundy holds me against the wall by my arms, eyes darting to the sword strapped to my waist. 

"I think you could answer that by yourself," I smirk, knowing I could easily take Fundy in a fight if things got worse. "Okay, have you been talking to George? I'd never actually seen the guy until the wanted posters came out, and I'm almost certain he's the George I met before."

"Exactly. Newsflash, Fundy, it's the same George." I shrug out of his grip, suffocating my laugh as I watch his balance slip. "I know that Karl is dead, and I know that you knew him. You and Tubbo both did, ages ago, when Tubbo still went by Toby. Then he died, shortly after the elite assassins formed. Didn't he?"

"George wouldn't have known that last part," Fundy retaliates. "He left before the group formed, and never ventured back into the city until whatever happened recently. So who else have you heard this from?"

"Who else is with George?"

It takes Fundy a few seconds to catch on, and I watch the cogs turn in his head until realisation dawns on him. His mouth hangs open slightly, taking in the information. 

"You've been talking to Dream, haven't you?" he asks finally, and I slowly nod my head in response. "Yes, I have. Now before you get me fired, I have a reason you should keep this quiet-"

"What explanation do you have? What possible reason could you give to stop me from reporting you straight to Techno himself for conspiring with the opposition?"

"That's not in your best intentions, Fundy. Trust me." The ex-assassin shakes his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. From what I can read off of his lips, it's not pleasant. 

"Because as much as Techno may have brought you to hate Dream, he's the most capable assassin I've ever seen," I elaborate. "And as you know all too well, I've worked beside Techno himself many times."

"So what, you plan to use him against us? That's blatant treason, Sapnap, and you know it'd fail." Each words Fundy manages is stuttered, unsure what to make of the onrush of information. 

I knew this was a dangerous idea, told George so many times that if we couldn't convince Fundy, we're done for. Yet after hearing how much he knew as well as what Dream could piece together, I finally agreed. It's still ridiculous, but I couldn't say no.

"No, actually. This isn't anything to do with Techno." Fundy still looks sceptical, tensed uncomfortably with a hand firmly gripping the hilt of his sword. "Then what?" he breathes. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to take you to Tubbo after everything you've just revealed to me-"

"Then will this change your mind?" I step back a little, rummaging through my bag to find what George gave me. At last I do, pulling it out in view of Fundy. His eyes go wide, gaze unable to drift away from the bee plush. "So you came to find me so that you could use my past against me," he mumbles bitterly.

"I'm not sure you understand me." I place the bee back in my bag, making sure to keep it out of reach of Fundy. "There are very few people that I care about anymore alive. Let me remind you my soulmate died before I even got the chance to meet them; I don't have a Devotion." I let my sleeve fall from my wrist, exposing the black band beneath.

"If I were to kill you, or Tubbo, I'd lose what little I have left. George and consequently Dream would never talk to me again. I'd be banished from the city and left by myself. The latter will happen anyway if you report me." Realisation hits me as I utter my situation aloud, forced to accept the mess I've gotten myself into. 

"I'm not stupid, Fundy. I wouldn't tell you all of this information unless I had a reason to. That reason is Karl, who I'm sure you want back more than anyone. George does too, for what Karl did back then. I understand he helped George when he needed it most."

My tone starts to turn accusing, and I have to remind myself of the position I'm currently in. "When you convinced Tubbo to turn him away, but couldn't get Karl to. He wants the bee returned to Tubbo, and would've done it himself if he were able to."

"But he can't, so he asked you to instead." To my relief, Fundy nods slowly, understanding my situation at last.

"So you're going to bring me to Tubbo, and I'm going to return the bee to him," I reiterate. "From there, we can work out what happens regarding Karl. Dream and George have already thought that out." 

Confidently, I take a few steps towards him, letting the bee hang within his view line as I speak.

"Is that clear, Fundy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ascendent - someone from whom you are descended.
> 
> In this context, Sapnap is using a 'version' of Fundy against him, as he believes Fundy as assassin is merely a persona of who George described him to once be.


	19. Defying Fate

-Sapnap's POV-

The place Fundy ends up taking me to is somewhere I suspected Tubbo may be. 

It's one of the elite assassin camps, old enough to look worn with age but new enough to still be in use. In a pretty good condition, actually, our group's symbol still clearly visible on all brick walls. This place is situated not too far out from the centre of town, within about fifteen minutes of the market square. 

"Wait here, I'll go get him." I'm left alone in the lobby, filled with grand furnishing I've never seen used. I've only heard of a few occasions of this building being used, and only been here once or twice myself. 

It's clever, really, to keep someone safe in a place like this. Used enough that nobody would take it themselves, but not enough to make it the target of attacks. 

After a few minutes, Fundy returns. Close behind him is indeed the boy I met, nervously rubbing one wrist as if it's aching. This is definitely the person George described, and the eyes make it obvious it's the same boy I met a few months ago. 

"Hey there, Tubbo," I greet politely with a smile. Fundy shoots me a glare, but I decide to ignore him. The teen mumbles a hello in response, refusing to step out from behind Fundy. "I think I have something for you," I elaborate, hoping that it'll make him smile. 

It's hard to see someone so young look so broken. They aren't yet burdened by the system, and should therefore have the chance to feel a lot safer and consequently be a lot happier. 

Yet this boy looks far from happy, and I can't help but notice how his eyes continuously dart to his left. For a second I debate if there's a devotion stood beside him, shortly after remembering that teens can't have them and decide it must just be anxiety.

I pull the bee from my bag, dusting it off as much as I can before slowly holding it out to him. His eyes light up in wonder, filled with a childlike fondness to match the brightening smile that tugs at his lips. "Tubbee?" he asks quietly, eyes darting from his left to the bee in amazement. 

"Yeah," I smile, holding out the bee for him to take. "Someone you know found it, actually. He told me you liked bees, and used to stay in the treehouse where we found it. We realised you now lived here, and he asked if I could return it to you."

"Who found it?" he asks, at last taking the bee from me. He turns the plush over in his hands, cleaning it with his sleeve. "George found it-" Fundy cuts in. "Turns out it is the same George, after all."

"You mean Techno has to kill George?" Fundy and I nod in unison, and my heart aches a little more to see the tears that build in Tubbo's eyes. "Fundy we can't lose someone else!" he suddenly yells, hugging the bee tightly to his chest. 

"Not again, not within months of each other. I don't want to go through that again!" His eyes drift back to the left, a weak smile visible for just a few seconds before engulfed again in his sorrow. 

"I miss Karl."

Fundy bites his lip, eyes full of pity. Thankfully I know that I've won, certain that Fundy can no longer deny Tubbo a visit to at least see George again. 

The ex-assassin seems to have accepted as much, shaking his head dully as he debates what to say. "Guess we're to go along with your plan, then," he sighs. I manage to stifle any sarcastic comments for Tubbo's sake.

"Perfect. So here's the plan..."

~~~

-George's POV- 

This doesn't seem real.

It'd been a year. A year since I'd last seen their faces, any of them, or heard their names come up in conversation. Until three weeks ago, I wasn't even aware Fundy was an Elite Assassin, or that he ever knew Techno as anything more than just his boss. 

I'd presumed them all alive, to still be living in that same treehouse I met them in all that time ago. Only to find out recently that something had happened, something I still don't have all the answers to.

From what I know, however, the three boys I once knew no longer remain a three. 

The first now an ex-elite assassin, working beside Techno for several months before taking a step back from the job. According to Sapnap, though, he's still quite involved with them. Has been the past four months since Sapnap started working with them, and apparently was beforehand for quite some time.

The second was completely different. Despite Fundy being a near perfect fit for the role, I'd never be able to imagine Karl as an elite assassin. He was too friendly, too easily trusting to take on an assassin's persona. 

It's that type of personality that centres around the few theories I first had about his death, wondering if he could've tried to follow in Fundy's footsteps. Which ultimately could've ended in his demise, considering how he acted. Yet both Sapnap and Clay claim they never saw Karl, which now leaves me clueless on the situation ending in his death.

The third boy was Toby. Barely two days ago, I'd believed the teen dead. At first thinking it was him who had died, considering the state of the bee plushie I'd found in the old, bloody treehouse. 

Immediately I'd thought it was his. There was no other way, no sign that didn't lead to him being the boy that was murdered in that place who knows how long ago. 

Yet here he is now, defying every theory I'd pondered over the past few days by standing in this room before me.

Alive.


	20. Feigned Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT:
> 
> As of this chapter onward, this book here is now at the same stage as it is on my wattpad, meaning that updates will no longer follow the every 3 days pattern they used to. I don’t have a schedule as of currently, but it’s roughly every 5 days.
> 
> (I’ll update new chapters here at the same time as I will wattpad from now on, dw).

-George's POV- 

I recognise him almost instantly when he enters the room. 

The look on his face suggests he does the same upon seeing me, and when I watch the teen's eyes widen in wonder, it's then I realise Sapnap and Clay were right. His eyes are definitely different shades, unlike the last time I saw him. Although, other than that small detail, he looks almost identical. 

"George!" he suddenly yells, sprinting across the room to me. I'm embraced in a tight hug, catching me by surprise at first. 

Slowly I wrap my arms around him, holding on tightly as if scared my fear of him being dead will suddenly become true. It warms my heart to see him alive, and I let out a shaky breath I didn't realise I was holding in relief. 

"I'm so happy to see you," Tubbo mumbles into my shoulder, knotting his fingers tighter into the fabric of my shirt. "I'd started to wonder if you were dead, until I saw the wanted posters a few weeks ago."

"I'm happy to see you too, Toby," I smile, taking his death grip as a sign to enjoy this moment a little longer. 

"Can you call me Tubbo please?" he asks suddenly, pulling away. "That's the name I go by now. For... personal reasons..." his eyes drift nervously to the floor, waiting anxiously for my response.

"Oh, okay," I respond, mentally ridiculing myself for forgetting the new name. "It's a very pretty name, Tubbo. Definitely suits you." For some reason, the nickname is perfect for him. I can't figure out why, but it just seems to fit him so well. 

"Thanks!" Tubbo smiles, all signs of concern fading from his eyes. "My best friend gave it to me, actually. He's really good at coming up with nicknames." 

I notice Tubbo rubbing his wrist again, deciding I'd look out for it after Sapnap mentioned it. Something has clearly happened to Tubbo since the last time we met, but I can't work out what.

"You'll have to introduce me to him sometime," I shrug, hoping that it'll have some connection to what happened. 

Clay didn't ask me outright about my problems when he first met me, deciding it'd be better if I worked it out for myself. It took me a few days to process what I did to Clay when I found out, and I spent that time annoyed that he hadn't told me sooner. 

But over time, I came to realise he had good intentions, and only hid so much from me to protect me from relapsing. The method ended up working for me in the end, so I decide to refrain from asking Tubbo in case he's a similar scenario. 

A figure I recognise as Fundy suddenly enters the room, Sapnap by his side. His eyes immediately search around for Tubbo, and I notice how he breathes a sigh of relief, similar to my own, upon realising he's safe. 

I offer the ex-assassin a polite smile, Tubbo waving at him with a grin. Fundy smiles back, subtly returning Tubbo's little wave with much less enthusiasm. 

Fundy's gaze drifts further across the meeting room, settling on Dream. He stares daggers into him, curling his lip in disgust. "You can stay on the opposite side of the room, bitch," Fundy spits to him, resuming his conversation with Sapnap. 

Clay rolls his eyes but decides not to protest, taking a seat in the chair furthest from Fundy and Tubbo.

"Fundy I'm seventeen," Tubbo quips. "I can handle myself by now. If I thought Dream was dangerous, I'd have kept further away from him. He's just an ex-assassin, like you." 

Everyone seems stunned by the teen's sudden outburst, Clay trying and miserably failing to hide a daring smirk with his mask.

"You don't understand, Tubbo. Dream isn't just some ex-assassin like me-"

I often wondered why he still holds onto it, insistent on keeping it in his bag. Although after wearing it myself and being attacked for it, I've come to understand the power that mask has. 

Clay seems to like flaunting that power, knowing most people would run if they saw someone wearing it. An item characteristic to the persona known as Dream, well-known as the only assassin believed to stand a chance rivalling Techno.

Fundy is right; Dream is no average assassin.

"Oh so you know he's more skilled than most," Sapnap drawls with a smirk. "You're scared of what you keep denying he's capable of. Continued to tell me the name 'Dream' doesn't mean shit to you, yet here you are, quaking in fear at nothing other than his presence."

"Shut your mouth, fire-boy."

"Fundy, listen." Clay pulls his mask up, deciding to leave it resting on the side of his head instead of stowing it in his bag. "If I wanted to kill Tubbo, he'd already be dead. I have no reason to hurt him, so I won't." He picks at his nails absentmindedly, as if bored of the conversation.

"Besides, you know damn well George is my boyfriend, and he's known Tubbo and even you far longer than he's known me." Tubbo seems to relax a little bit more at Clay's words, and I debate if there's a side of the teen that is scared of him. Most likely impacted by Fundy, who he must trust the most out of all of us. 

"Why would I kill George's friend?" Clay asks, meeting Fundy's eyes with an equally sharp glare. 

"Because you're a lying bastard with a cocky attitude who is known to break promises." 

"You seem to forget that your reputation precedes you, Dream. We were elite assassins at the same time, and despite the fact I never worked directly alongside you, I know what you were like."

"I thought we weren't holding people's pasts against them?" Sapnap interjects, earning an angry glare from the ex-assassin. He seems to get the point across though, as Fundy changes the subject. 

"Either way, you should understand that I have reason not to trust you, Dream. Plenty of reasons, which I'll be happy to remind you of if necessary later-"

"I don't need a reminder of how awful of a person I was," Clay sighs bitterly. "There's a reason I left the elite assassins in the first place. Techno hated my guts when I worked for him, and that situation has only gotten worse since."

Clay suddenly stands, and Fundy immediately steps towards Tubbo. Sapnap shuffles towards his best friend, and I make sure to position myself between both pairs. 

He draws a blade from his scabbard, pushing Tubbo further behind him. The sword adorned with the elite's mark, I notice, as Sapnap draws an identical blade. "Don't test me-" Sapnap warns, stepping back until he's out of the crossfire. I do the same, slowly edging towards Clay. 

"I'll kill you Dream! Don't start a fight you won't win."

"You wouldn't get anywhere near me, Fundy. An amateur assassin such as yourself wouldn't stand a chance." Tubbo desperately tugs at Fundy's arm, knocking him off balance as he mumbles something frantically into his ear. 

"That cocky attitude shows again," Fundy spits. "A facade to cover your nerves, it seems. You aren't as tough as you make yourself out to be." Both swords swing at once, once aiming for the chest and the other for the neck of their opponent. 

That is, until I step back into the centre.


	21. Pained Longings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some important stuff:
> 
> \- Update schedule is now every 3 days, roughly 10pm GMT. That may increase or decrease, but I'll let you know if it does. 
> 
> \- Going to be working on turning 2 of my oneshots from wattpad into short stories to post here! That will most likely be after this books ends, though. One is a dnf detective au, and the other an sbi royalty au :)

-George's POV-

"George, how much do you value your life?"

Both sides halt their swings as soon as I step between them, Clay missing my neck by barely inches. "Because if you do, I'd advise you to step aside immediately." Fundy ends with a snarl.

"You dare even lay a hand on him-" Clay tries to step in front of me, tugging at my sleeve in an attempt to put as much distance between Fundy and I as possible. "-And I will not hesitate to return more than just the favour, Fundy," he finishes, spitting the words through gritted teeth.

"Hey!" Sapnap steps between Fundy and Clay, aiming a freshly sharpened blade at each of their necks. "We came here to discuss an alliance, not cut each other's heads off. You two are acting like animals, just sit down-"

"I think any chance of an alliance is far gone by this point," Fundy interrupts. "Sapnap, you knew I was suspicious of Dream anyway. I was already unsure about meeting up with him, and this only proved my suspicions." Despite his words, he backs away, holding the sword at arm's length.

"As for Karl, he's just as far gone. It's been months since he died, and we never found out who killed him. He died before meeting his soulmate." Tubbo's mouth hangs open slightly upon hearing his dead friend's name, and I hate the look of sorrow that clouds his eyes.

"That's all we know, I swear. Tubbo would tell you the same." The teen nods, chewing his lip as he redirects his gaze to the floor. 

"Chances are his soulmate is still alive-" Fundy continues. "-But we have no idea who they could be. Karl can't be a Devotion." The ex-assassin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, lowering his blade so that he can wrap a comforting arm around Tubbo's shoulders.

"I'm sorry George, but there's nothing that can be done for him."

I nod, slowly accepting that if I ever see Karl again, it will be by chance. We have nothing to go off of, have no way of finding out who his soulmate is. Or was, they could be dead by this point.

"What if Karl's soulmate is me?"

Sapnap disrupts the silence, cringing as soon as the question leaves his lips. "You're crazy," Fundy quips. "The chances of that are so incredibly slim, you've got to be delirious to think that could possibly be the case. Besides, I pity your soulmate enough already. Don't think I'd know what to do if poor Karl was forced to deal with you-"

"Well if I'd have met him instead of you, maybe he'd still be alive!" The two assassins clench their fists, both trying to resist the temptation to grab a weapon. 

It must be hard, resisting an urge drilled into you by what's ended up becoming natural instinct. Assassins know that their chances of winning an argument tend to be best when fights are sorted by combat, even amongst their own group.

"I don't think you understand, Fundy," Sapnap snarls. "I've spent months now, training to be an assassin. I abandoned my best friend to do as such, after having to resist the urge to kill him, only to find out he died barely a month later to someone else anyway." A sense of shame washes over me, knowing I was the 'someone else'.

"It would've been so easy!" The smile on Sapnap's face is disturbing, twisted wide in a state of madness. "All I had to do was kill Dream while he was asleep, and I'd finally have my soulmate. They'd appear right in front of me, and after nineteen years, I'd finally have them. Easy!" Fundy steps away from Sapnap in fear, knowing he's even more dangerous like this.

"Who needs friends anyway, when you live in constant fear they could stab you in the back at any moment, an overhanging sense dread that they may actually consider it? Or worse, go through with it! I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it, I did every day!" 

A crazed laugh echoes from his mouth, so borderline sadistic it makes even his best friend move away. Clay seems to have curled into himself, guilty sorrow in his eyes showing he's plagued with discomfort.

"You don't get it, none of you do!" Sapnap continues, voice rising in his state of delirium.  
"None of you have had to go through what I have, watch others be happy for so damn long when you're forced to remain alone. I have no idea who I'm supposed to be saving, no idea who my soulmate is or if they'll still actually care about me after all this time."

There's a bright spark in those emerald eyes, a fiery glow set alight in rage. Determination burns less brightly, choking on doubtful embers. I take a slow step towards him, tugging my arm from Tubbo's grasp. Quickly, I shoot the teen a kind smile in hope of easing his worries, pretending to know what I'm doing. "Sapnap, calm down-"

"Calm down?" he laughs in that psychotic giggle. "George, I'm sick of this! Sick of helping everyone else, and everything still going wrong. My soulmate must think I don't care about them! I've been forced for so long to help others get their soulmate back, and never been allowed to get back my own."

Sapnap sighs, slowly starting to calm down. "I just thought Techno would give me some time. Any at all, to think about saving my own soulmate instead of someone else's." 

The words come out bitter, chokes out in disgust. Sapnap seems ashamed, shaking his head and muttering something unpleasant to himself under his breath.

"I'm sorry," he finishes, letting Clay envelope him in a tight embrace. The two best friends remain completely still for a few seconds, one slowly sinking into the other's arms. "I just miss them" Nick sighs after taking a few deep breaths. "I want my soulmate back."

"Apologies, but so do I." A familiar voice suddenly rings out, and dread fills Sapnap's eyes in recognition. He scans the room in search of the voice's owner, backing away from the door as his hands scramble for a weapon. They speak again seconds later, and I watch Sapnap's mouth fall open at the sound of his hunter's voice.

"Which means, Sapnap, that you have to die."


	22. Unforseen Events

-George’s POV-

The sound of approaching footsteps echo from outside, and I barely manage to move out of the way before the door is collapsed inwards. It almost hits me, and I throw my arms up just in time to protect my face from the splintering wood. 

When I open my eyes I’m met with Clay, who offers me a weak smile in reassurance as he scans my face for any signs of injury. “You okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. I nod silently in response, letting him grab my arm and drag me away from the doorway.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot Fundy, shielding his eyes with the same hand his dagger is gripped in. The other arm is wrapped tightly around Tubbo, who coughs and splutters with his hand thrown up in an attempt to block the dust still clouding the doorway. 

Through the rubble comes Illumina, accompanied by two more assassins from his group. Their faces are cloaked, much like his own, and I wonder if Sapnap’s target is among them.

Sapnap is the only one of our group still on his feet, sword grasped tightly between both of his hands. He clutches the handle with a death grip, teeth gritted as he desperately tries to stop himself from shaking. “So you didn’t learn your lesson last time?” he breathes, the nervous words accompanied with a sour laugh. Illumina tugs at the fabric covering his mouth, exposing the confident smirk beneath.

“Of course not,” he jokes sarcastically. “I’m like you, Sapnap: I’m adamant. A little assassin isn’t going to stop me from getting what I want, just because he flaunts the same symbol as Technoblade.” I notice the sword Sapnap wields currently is the one gifted to him by his group, their mark evident on both the handle and the blade itself.

Elite assassins are proud, and Illumina seems to think it ridiculous. His weapons aren’t marked with any indication of his group, nor are his clothes. I’ve never heard a name for them either, and can only recognise their group’s members by the all black outfits and face masks.

“Step away from him.”

It’s only then I’m made aware that Clay is no longer at my side. He stands at Sapnap’s instead, mask pulled to his face to protect it from the dust.

“Dream, is it?” Illumina drawls. “Could’ve sworn you were dead the last time I fought you. Your soulmate must be more able than I expected after all, if they managed to revive you and survive Techno.” His gaze drifts to me, cold an unimpressed despite his half-praise. A sneer spreads across his face, echoed in his tone.

“You don’t look all that impressive, no offence.” I roll my eyes, forcing myself to block out the insults and instead focus on the fight that’s evidently about to start. “Although, I’m not here for you, so it doesn’t really matter how capable you are.” 

Illumina turns to face Sapnap once more, but doesn’t step away from me. “You got lucky last time we met,” he spits, deeming me too inferior to speak directly to. 

“You won’t get lucky again this time.”

Fundy signals to me from across the room, eyes quickly darting back to the assassins that foolishly stand with their backs to him. He kicks out his leg slightly, dragging it across the floor in a swiping motion before nodding his head in the direction of Illumina, who still stands within distance of me. I nod back subtly, attempting to catch Clay’s eye as Fundy tries to catch Sapnap’s.

The two best friends seem too intently focused on the assassins facing them to notice, most likely trying to devise their own plan. It’s shocking how they do it, how their brains are so fiercely trained to work so well in an unforeseen and dangerous situation.

I can practically see the cogs turn in Sapnap’s head as his eyes scan over his enemy, assessing them for any sign of weakness. For something, anything, that he could possibly use against them. Both sides seem adamant to wait for their opposition to strike first, stood in stunned silence as they think over their attack plans.

My attention falls back to Fundy, who is busy explaining something to Tubbo. He mutters near inaudibly, and I’m only able to make out a few occasional words as they’re uttered from his lips. 

I force myself to keep an eye on Illumina, subtly glancing back at him every few seconds to check their position, but none of the assassins have moved. 

Distantly, I notice Fundy hold up his hand. I’m confused for a second, before he puts down a finger, leaving only four up. Then another, leaving only three.

Two.

One.

As soon he lowers his last finger, I strike. 

We both do, swinging our legs out from where we sit and catching the assassins off guard. My ankle collides with Illumina’s, who sways for a second as he tries to regain his balance. Clay takes the opportunity to strike, disarming the assassin and knocking him to the floor.

“Look, Illumina,” he grits out, blade cutting into the arm he fights to hold down. “I don’t want to kill you, for the sake of your soulmate, but you make this hard.” There’a an uncertainty laced in his tone, making the warning seem half-empty. 

“Know that I won’t hesitate to if it comes to that.”

“Bold words coming from someone who knows the scars on his face were mostly inflicted by the very person he’s threatening currently.” 

Illumina suddenly swipes his secondary blade, a small dagger, upwards in a swift strike. The blow collides with the strap on Clay’s head, snapping it open and leaving the face beneath exposed. I watch the smiling face hit the floor, cracking a thin line through the white mask.

“Look at you,” Illumina sneers, confident words choking up as Clay digs the blade deeper into his arm, which is still scrambling for his sword. “Ridiculous. I’m not here for you, get out of the way. Let the system be fulfilled the way it’s meant to be.” 

Clay only shakes his head, keeping his dagger close to Illumina’s throat. I force myself to my feet, picking up the weapon Illumina is so desperately searching for and moving it as far out of his reach as I can.

Sapnap seems to have also taken advantage of the situation, holding one of the other assassins against the wall as Fundy does the same with the third. 

Tubbo stands in the corner, dagger gripped with white knuckles on a trembling hand. He mumbles incoherently under his breath, like there’s someone beside him, fear bright in his eyes. Still rubbing his wrist with his spare hand, like he always does. As if finding it comforting, something to ground him to the situation at hand. 

“You seem a little stuck there,” Sapnap smirks in Illumina’s direction, keeping a firm hold on the assassin he has against the wall. A yell suddenly pierces the room, and I turn back to see the roles reversed. 

Illumina now has Clay pinned to the floor, blood pouring from his nose with gritted teeth. Immediately I try to interfere, but Illumina steps away. “Oh don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt your precious soulmate.”

The assassin glares once more at Clay before stepping back, kicking his even more broken mask towards him. “Despite how much I want to,” he adds with a sarcastic laugh. “Would love to give him a few more scars, see if it wipes that cocky smirk off of his face-”

“Alright, and that’s your cue to leave,” Sapnap interjects. He grabs the assassin he was watching by the throat, shoving them in Illumina’s direction. They stumble under the force, hitting the floor before they can steady themselves. 

“Neither side is winning here, get out. You don’t want to fight like this, and I don’t want to report to Techno that we killed a rival group’s leader in merely fifteen minutes.”

There’s a nasty scraping sound as metal collides with concrete, weapons sent clattering across the floor. I notice Tubbo backing away, the teen squirming nervously with blue eyes glued to the scene before him. He doesn’t seem badly bothered by the bloody mess we’ve made of the now destroyed meeting room, and that worries me.

“You heard me, leave!” Sapnap yells furiously to Illumina, who at last backs up towards the door. 

The assassins back off, and I take the opportunity to run to Clay’s side. He grips my hand, pulling himself to his feet. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem badly hurt, the blood pouring from his nose the only sign of injury.

“That’s right, go,” Sapnap points to the door, aiming his sword at the assassins as they leave. “I won’t be dealing with you for much longer.”

“That’s fine,” Illumina suddenly smirks, turning back to face us as he leaves. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that makes me question this situation entirely. He turned up outnumbered, with only two members. Abruptly too, and didn’t put up too much of a fight.

Something about this just doesn’t seem right.

“That’s fine by me,” he adds, the smile refusing to leave his lips. The sigh makes me squirm.

“I got what I wanted.”


	23. Worse Than Aware

-George's POV-

"So, now that that's over..."

We all turn in Sapnap's direction, shooting him an unimpressed glare. He laughs awkwardly, accepting his attempt at dry humour has failed miserably. 

"Sorry about that," he quickly adds, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. The spark in his seemingly cheerful tone dies out, replaced with guilt and shame. "I know it's my fault we were attacked, I should've payed more attention-"

"Don't blame this on yourself," Clay interjects. "There's five of us here, not just you. We all should've been more careful." I take a moment to run the trip here back through my head, trying to think of any possible time we could've been overheard. 

Central City is a maze to navigate unless you know the safer routes, full of alleyways that are safely blanketed in shadows even during the day. Perfect places for those who don't fear being attacked to hide, easily enabling them to overhear their victims without being spotted.

"Am I the only one bothered by what Illumina said?" Fundy asks suddenly. "He said he got what he wanted out of this, but didn't kill Sapnap. He didn't even try to kill him!" 

Clay nods his head, eyes narrowing to slits as he thinks through Fundy's words. I've always found it cute, the way his freckles seem to merge into one as his face screws up in thought.

"What if his aim wasn't to kill me?" Sapnap asks to the silent room. "What if he pretended it was, so that we'd put up a stronger fight against him? He brought two people with him, there's no way this was a planned attack. It's more like he overheard us by coincidence, and decided to take advantage of the situation."

"I think he came here to learn something. Maybe about our plans, maybe about us. Could be to analyse our combat styles, or somehow get some information out of us." 

Tubbo's eyes nervously dart between the assassin's, still filled to the brim with fear. I manage to catch his eye, offering him a hopefully reassuring smile and a thumbs up. He returns the gesture, to my relief, and hopeful light starts to seep through the cracks again.

"I was going to ask you about that actually, Fundy," Clay adds, narrowing his eyes as the ex-assassin in question. "Why did you agree to meet us here in the first place? Sapnap said you weren't even willing to consider the idea when he approached you with it, so what changed your mind?" 

When Fundy shows no sign of talking, Clay continues. "Do you have the same reasoning as Illumina? Agreed to come here after realising you could get some information out of it?"

"We aren't stupid, Fundy. I know that Techno wouldn't just let George go when his target was changed, he's got a reputation to uphold, and too much pride to lose it. He failed to kill his target, who wasn't an assassin, and still can't even fight properly." 

It stings that people keep bringing me up in that way, like it's a miracle I'm still alive. Which it probably is, but I have killed two people, and saved Sapnap's life. Combat skills aren't everything when learning how to survive.

"If you're suggesting I came here to gather information for the reports, you're wrong," Fundy stutters, clearly taken aback by the accusation. 

"The reports?" Clay interrupts. "Oh, you mean those little announcements you have in the markets where you update people on the minuscule amount of information you've managed to dig up about us?" His words come out brash, twinged with a bitter tone. I debate stepping in to stop what could turn into another fight, but Tubbo does so first.

"Fundy agreed to come here because I begged him to!" Tubbo spits angrily. "I wanted to see George, was really desperate to once Sapnap told us he was alive."

"The only reason Fundy came here is because I threatened to do so alone otherwise," he admits quietly, almost immediately losing the venom in his tone. "Which I was serious about, and he knows I was. So he finally agreed to come here with me."

A small smile tugs at my lips upon hearing the effort Tubbo was willing to go through to see me again. It also makes me feel better knowing what Fundy is prepared to do to keep Tubbo safe. He seems safe here, under the protection of people too feared by everyone else to be messed with frequently.

"Anyway," Fundy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Now that I've answered a question of yours, can you answer one of mine?" Clay shrugs, picking at his nails absentmindedly. There's a knowing smirk plastered across his face, one that Fundy notices and scowls at in disgust. 

"Do you know anything about the fire that happened on the north side of the city a few weeks ago? We can't trace it to anyone, and can't see reason for the building that was lit on fire to be destroyed. It's an unoccupied building, doesn't belong to anyone as far as I'm aware."

"Someone lit an old camp on fire?!" Clay asks in disbelief. Immediately he seems more interested in the conversation, and I can't help but wonder why. "You think someone lit it on purpose?" I ask to Fundy.

"I know someone did it deliberately," he sighs bitterly. "You don't accidentally start a fire from the fifth floor of an empty building. I've not seen anyone set foot in there in months, nobody has. To my knowledge, it was full of old furnishings, which is why the first stretched to another building before burning itself out."

"Beats me," Sapnap shrugs. "I wouldn't burn a building without a reason to. That's uncommon even if it is inhabited, though, as anything kept inside would've been destroyed. I've seen the place since, and its nothing more than bent metal and ashes. What's the point if it was empty? Whoever did it destroyed any information that was there."

"Exactly my point," Fundy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Why burn a building that's been uninhabited for at least three months? What would someone gain from that?"

"What if it wasn't uninhabited after all?" 

We all turn in the direction of Clay, who had previously seemed disinterested in the conversation. "Dream, I assure you it was," Fundy is quick to respond. "The elite assassins do checks of the buildings around their bases, you know that-"

"Oh, 'the elite assassins this' and 'the elite assassins that'." Clay mimics hand puppets in a sarcastic tone, and I watch the rage begin to build in Fundy's eyes. "Just because everyone else in this damn city takes every word your little assassin group says as facts doesn't mean I will." Fundy opens his mouth as if to speak, but Clay cuts him off first.

"I know what Techno is like, alright. I know that he sends people to thoroughly check these buildings over every few days. But I also know that power goes to his head, and he believes people won't dare to rival him. There's a reason he makes so much of what you find out public, and there's a reason this includes the buildings you keep tabs on. He thinks that if people know you watch over them, they will keep their distance."

Clay rolls his eyes at Fundy, who looks close to snapping at any second. His hand hovers over the sword at his waist, having only been returned there a few minutes ago. 

"Newsflash, Fundy: that's not always the case," Clay snarls, unfazed by the possible fight he could be about to start. "Not everyone is as scared of you as you think they are. I'm certainly not afraid of you, or Techno."

"You're Dream, of course you aren't," Fundy grits out. Slowly, he backs off, deciding fighting Dream alone wouldn't end well for him. "That doesn't matter. For all you know, there could be more like me. People who dare to challenge Techno, and have a good chance at being successful, too."

Fundy laughs, the sound chilling and cold. "Not even you could take down Techno! I know you think your good at fighting, but not even you could manage that."

"And what if I do?" Clay asks. 

"Then what?"


	24. Holding On

-George's POV-

"Can you stop fighting?!" Tubbo suddenly yells, abruptly halting the argument. Both sides freeze, shocked by the teen's sudden outburst. 

"This isn't getting us anywhere!" he sighs loudly, hands tightly balled into fists. He looks between the arguing adults as if in disappointment, waiting for them to listen before speaking again.

"Fundy, Dream clearly doesn't know anything about the fire. We're all equally as clueless as to who caused it and why. Dream, Fundy and I answered your question. I promise we aren't spies. Sapnap, Fundy helped you in that fight against Illumina, despite his motive."

Tubbo finally turns to me, and I notice he's now clutching the bee I found tightly to his chest. "And George, thank you for going through all of this to return Tubbee. It was my best friend's, and it means a lot to both of us." He hugs the bee tighter, having cleaned the plushie since I found it.

Was?

"I'm sorry that we can't get Karl back. I've wanted to see him again so badly, but there's nothing we can do for him now." The hurt tone in which he speaks those words makes my heart ache. Defeated, evident that what little hope he had left has since been snuffed out. 

"I'm sure Karl would appreciate you wanting to help him, though. We always thought you had a kind heart, George. He told me that's why he let you stay when we first met you, he knew you were a good person."

I'm not though, I'm not-

"Thank you," I manage to choke out. "It means a lot to know he trusted me." I've always been thankful there were people in this world more willing to trust others than I am. Turns out there still are now, if you search hard enough to find them.

"Fundy does too now, I think." Tubbo looks to him for confirmation, and the ex-assassin begrudgingly nods his head. "So... he can come back with us?" 

Another tense nod. Clearly distrusting, but good enough. Most likely him agreeing for Tubbo's sake.

Again. 

"Fine," Fundy agrees reluctantly. "But I'm not letting anyone else go with him." 

His eyes drift to Clay, and he points his index finger towards him in accusation. "Especially not you, I definitely still don't trust you. There's probably a good reason for that too. You're not allowed anywhere near us."

"Whatever," Clay shrugs casually. "Sapnap and I can leave. I trust you two won't hurt my George, despite neither of you trusting me."

My George.

Sapnap turns in Clay's direction, shooting him a questioning glance. Clay rolls his eyes, the look in them reading 'just go with it'. Nick then mimics a choking noise at the nickname, pretending to gag in disgust. 

"Your George can handle himself," I quip back, unable to hide the rosy blush on my cheeks. Clay giggles softly, shaking his head.

"Alright, we're leaving," Fundy interrupts suddenly, signalling back in the direction of the door. He shoots Tubbo and I a nod, indicating for us to follow. Then to Sapnap, who I hadn't noticed was standing behind me until now. 

"You sure you're alright to go with them? I can escort you there if you want," he suddenly offers, but I shake my head.

"I'll meet you two back at the usual place later," I reiterate. "But thanks for caring." Fundy narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious that I won't label a location in front of him. 

I'm not sure why he thinks it's him I'm bothered by still. Clay and I are wanted people, and just got attacked by people we failed to spot until it was almost too late. It makes sense to be discreet, despite how distrusting it makes our companions of us.

I wait for Fundy and Tubbo to leave, Sapnap left looking between Clay and I. "I'll give you two a minute," he smirks, winking at Clay before following the other two out. I roll my eyes, staring daggers in the direction he went.

"He's just jealous," Clay wheezes, suddenly pressing his lips to mine in a chaste kiss. Softly, I kiss back, using slow movements to drag the moment out for a few seconds longer. 

Gentle fingertips brush against my skin, tracing the edge of my jaw before cupping my check. I wrap my hand over his, savouring the comfort his touch gives me. There's something about these simple gestures that make everything more bearable, subtle reminders that there's always someone safe beside you. 

"We should go," I mumble against his lips, forcing us to break apart slightly. He's quick to kiss me again before complying, this time more intensely. 

"Yeah, you're probably right," he sighs against my lips, still refusing to move his hand from my face. Reluctantly though, he does, resorting to threading our fingers together and dragging me along with him to keep contact.

"You're so clingy sometimes," I taunt, refusing to admit I am too. It took me a while to get used to the enjoy the affection at first, but I'm more than thankful for every moment of it now. 

"Maybe I am," Clay admits shyly, the embarrassment that makes his eyes glimmer making my heart glow in turn.

"But it's only because I care, sunshine."

~~~

-Tommy's POV-

"An elite assassin camp?" I watch the older boy, George, ask. Tubbo nods his head, touring him around the building with a fondness in his eyes. He, much like myself, seems to have learnt to like this place. 

Despite its slightly questionable appearance, the interior of the building is still in good condition. The exterior helps with keeping the place looking abandoned, I guess. 

"Fundy said it's the safest option," Tubbo clarifies, shrugging his shoulders casually as he speaks. "Makes sense to stay in a building known to have once been used by them. They still own it too; it's just not used as one of the main camps anymore." 

Fundy looks uncomfortable, eyes shifting back to George every few minutes. He's been on edge this entire time, adamant to keep as much distance between Tubbo and George as possible.

I've kept close to Tubbo's side, as I always do. More so for company than anything else, for both him and I. It's a comforting feeling to know I have someone I can't be separated from, and I think he feels the same way. 

The world can only take so many friends away from me. 

A sense of pride always rushes through me when he looks to me in tough situations, asking for guidance or just simply wanting to be told everything will be okay. Something he did a lot during that meeting, when I encouraged him to step in before it got any worse.

I force my thoughts to focus back on the real world, noticing Tubbo is watching me again. One of my own eyes stares back at me, and I'm not sure I'll ever get used to seeing it. 

Which is awful, considering the fact I'll never be able to see normally ever again. I'm trying to accept that this is the new normal for me, but it's hard.

I miss Phil.

I miss Wilbur.

I don't want to be stuck like this forever.

"Fundy! George isn't going to hurt me! He's our friend!" Tubbo backs away from Fundy, teeth gritted in anger. He folds his arms, glaring at the ex-assassin. 

"Well, maybe not yours anymore, but he is mine." 

I notice a small smile tug at George's lips, but he's still unable to meet their eyes. "I know he wouldn't hurt me," Tubbo reiterates in irritation. "Have some faith in that, please." He grabs George's hand, tugging him away to continue the tour.

'You tell him Tubbo' I sign to him using our special language. Tubbo shoots me a daring smirk, offering a thumbs up in thanks as the light returns to his eyes. There's a defiant spark in them, one I'm not used to seeing from someone as quiet and compliant as him. 

It's moments like these that make me feel better about my current state, knowing it's meant I could help him get his confidence back. 

I never met Karl, the boy whose death changed Tubbo. But even just from hearing about him, it's evident he had a positive impact on the lives of everyone he met. Especially on the boy who introduced himself as Toby, the one who was so certain he'd return that night. 

I still vividly remember the first day I came back to this world. It still haunts me, the look in his eyes when Fundy reported Karl dead. Defeated and devastated, like he'd lost a part of himself. 

Exactly like Techno's were when I'd told him what happened to Wilbur and Phil while he was gone. 

I've seen too much to be only sixteen, to die at that age. To suffer through all of that, and be forced to watch the few people I have to call friends do the same.

They were like family to me. We argued like brothers, and Phil would always step in to stop fights like the father figure he became to us three. Losing Wilbur and Phil for me was like Tubbo losing Karl. 

None of us can afford to lose people again. 

'Tom?' Tubbo waves his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention. I blink rapidly, snapped out of my daze. 

'It's okay, I promise,' he tells me silently, and I can't help but smile. We've learnt never to ask the other if they're okay anymore, knowing the answer will always be no. 

'I know it is,' I tell him, hoping one day I'll believe it.


End file.
